


Infinitely Inadvisable Indiscretions

by Like_a_Hurricane



Series: Pernicious Prompting [19]
Category: Hellblazer, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Bottom Tony Stark, Dom/sub, Drug Use, F/M, Human Loki, Human!Loki, I Blame Tumblr, Jane Foster would be there studying the weird phenomena before Thor and Mjolnir's arrival, M/M, Magic is complicated, Marijuana, Student!Tony, Top Loki, What if Mjolnir and Thor landed in Greenwich, answer: John Constantine would have a bad week, but he's still a naughty teenager hot for teacher, but that part tbh is inspired by teachers I have known irl, except all sorta not entirely, or so it seems, teacher!Loki, technically Tony is of consenting age according to state laws, things might be about to get pretty surreal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:37:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 71,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1595240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Like_a_Hurricane/pseuds/Like_a_Hurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Laufeyson is a teacher at a private boarding school, a high school, who enjoys his job; however, he also uses it mostly as a harmless-looking façade to hide behind, and is otherwise embroiled in an ongoing cat-and-mouse game, a silent sort of war, between various organisations––a few of them terroristic in nature––who want his skills put to use for their own ends, given how much of a stir one of his computer science books created in certain international communities, with all its implications about possible threats to national security within multiple nations. That stir, in fact, led to the creation of a new cyber-terrorism branch the international task-force known as S.H.I.E.L.D., who now employs Loki, and keeps him hidden in plain site at the aforementioned private school.</p><p>One of his pupils is the son of renowned industrialist Howard Stark, but Loki has never cared about that. He cared that Tony Stark was brilliant and clearly carried a wealth of all-too-familiar self-loathing and pain, to Loki's keen eye. He befriends the boy and marvels at his potential.</p><p>Then Tony Stark wants him. Loudly. And demands that Loki address it.</p><p>And Loki <i>wants</i> too. It's all downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a simple, quick little Tumblr prompt. It became a monster. I regret nothing.

Mr. Laufeyson wasn’t exactly known for being the strictest of teachers. He was the most acerbic and sarcastic, absolutely, and one of the most posh (there were only four teachers in the school with accents: Ms. Romanoff, Mr. Wagner, Mr. Lehnsherr, and Mr. Laufeyson, and only Lehnsherr competed with Laufeyson in the pure polished-condescension-and-perfect-elocution department), but he was known, to those wise enough to break the rules in particularly intelligent ways (like finding the most isolated place in the school to smoke with the perfect instant escape route, only to then be joined shortly afterward by Mr. Laufeyson who would calmly smoke a blunt and pontificate with a fellow offender about the philosophy of Benedictus de Spinoza) that Mr. Laufeyson was a nihilist at heart and only bothered to be strict with people who did not restrain their impulses enough to pass for proper in the eyes of most of the authority figures who actually cared, and even then he was lenient with those who hadn’t actually meant to do anything wrong. (The man had a built-in lie detector, better than any other teacher in the school in Tony’s considerable estimation.) It was very unusual for him to take one of the more intelligent and rebellious students, one of the never-caught ones, to task.

Tony Stark was an exceptional teenager, in many ways. He had asked Mr. Laufeyson a few times how he’d known when other kids were and weren’t lying, citing examples. The teacher had smirked and said, “Look up ‘Improbability’ in the Devil’s Dictionary. Ambrose Bierce.” Tony had. And Tony had fallen head over heels in intellectual and physical lust for his teacher by the end of the poem. He hunted down rumours about the man, and found out he had been groomed to be a lawyer, a prosecutor of the highest caliber, by his family (although he had a secondary degree in computer science and had written a couple of impressive books on international network security systems and cyberterrorism) only for something to go horribly wrong with his father, resulting in a surname-change for Loki Odinson. (So maybe Tony had hacked some of this stuff. Maybe he was a bit obsessed.) Somehow, Loki’s reputation had been utterly ruined and he’d given his family the finger and moved to the United States, where he had become a teacher, somehow, out of all of it. Tony wasn’t at all sure what that was about, either, but there was something a bit fishy about it.

So he’d done some further digging, and maybe found out his teacher was acting as a bit of a double-agent in a sort of underground information-gathering war between multiple nations and governments, two terrorist groups (the Ten Rings and Hydra respectively), and a special international task-force called S.H.I.E.L.D. and he was now trying not to show signs of overt arousal as he sat at his desk and Loki Laufeyson glared daggers at him. “Mr. Stark, you are in breech of more than school rules today, but also domestic and international laws, and furthermore-” He halted right in front of the desk and leaned in just slightly, showing a bit too much teeth as he hissed, “you almost got us **both** caught! _Three times!_ ”

"To be fair the first time I was really distracted by you taking off your tie, and the second you were bent over under that machine and I really, really couldn’t focus because _what school teacher has pants tailored like that_ , and I’m really, really, really sorry about the third time,” Tony rambled out, rapid-fire, before his brain could stop his mouth.

Loki stared at him unblinking for a few moments. “Pardon?”

"Your sex appeal distracts me a lot, actually, why do you think I knew all that stuff about you, okay? I’m seventeen! I’m allowed to have insane crushes on impossibly intelligent and sexy teachers. It’s not mandatory for me to graduate from adolescence but it’s either this or jocks, and you are way hotter than any jock I’ve ever seen."

Loki looked amused, then, just for a moment, _interested_ , but he then straightened abruptly, composure instantly back in place. “I refuse to apologise for these trousers, and I’ll pass on the compliments to my tailor. I’m sure he’ll be pleased with himself. You have detention for the rest of this school year.”

"On.. what days?"

"All but Sunday."

"…With you?"

The teacher’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. No one else would be able to keep track of you. Or they might be set on fire.”

"That was only twice, and to be fair, they left me unattended in a chem lab both times and that’s-"

"Why you will be spending your detentions here."

"… Can we-"

"No," Loki said flatly.

"I didn’t even-"

"Eyes up here, Mr. Stark."

Tony squirmed. He should never have given this teacher such a weapon against him, but there was something about Mr. Laufeyson’s smirk that made him think maybe… maybe two could play this game. He widened his eyes and tilted his head down so he was looking up through his eyelashes and bit gently at his lower lip. “Please?”

Loki’s expression flicked back behind a mask. “Stop that.”

Tony grinned evilly, then.

The teacher might have swallowed convulsively and thought to himself, _Damn_.

 

~~

 

"Seventeen is the age of consent in this state," Tony said brightly, the first day of detention.

Mr. Laufeyson shot him an utterly exasperated glare.

"It’s pertinent information!"

"Do please be quiet, Mr. Stark."

"Oh come on. You like talking to me. Sober or otherwise."

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger and silently cursed himself for letting this particular youth ever see him high. Not that the teacher was actually  _very_ high at the time, so much as under a moderate buzz, but it was leverage he was now regretting having given to the likes of Tony Stark. Especially because his accursed pupil was correct. “You could start by explaining how exactly you found out all of the interesting information you happen to know about my past and my current occupation, as well as share any other private information of mine you’ve obtained through cyberstalking.”

Tony frowned and sunk down a bit in his seat, blushing slightly and feeling a little bit of guilt. “Um. I know you changed your surname.”

Loki’s hands, formerly in constant motion as he ticked off correct and incorrect answers on a series of tests, stilled abruptly. His eyes fixed on those of his pupil with a dangerously cold look. “What.”

Tony rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Well. My dad, you see, has some S.H.I.E.L.D. connections I only recently found out about? To the point he might be one of the founding members you aren’t supposed to know much about because they sort of don’t trust you fully because of your habitual screwing with Fury and the fact you always know more than they want you to regardless in ways that make them play super close-to-the-vest with you…”

Loki set the stack of test papers aside and scrubbed his hands over his face, leaning back in his seat and swearing quietly, and vehemently, in a mixture of English and Dutch.

"Sorry?"

"I know who your father is, of course, but you’re correct in that I was unaware of his position within S.H.I.E.L.D.,” the teacher conceded, his tone flat. “I’m not surprised they have records of my former life, either.”

"Sorry to bring it up. It sounds, uh, like it’s something you’d rather forget, but you asked, so… sorry."

Loki lowered his hands and appraised the sheepish-looking teenager before him: too brilliant by far, too brazen, and too damnably earnest––except that he’d known the boy––the young man––for three years and seen exactly how disingenuous and cynical he really was, with everyone but himself. With everyone except Mr. Laufeyson, who he asked for advice from, about dealing with his father (who reminded the teacher all too vividly of Odin in uncomfortable ways), and kept up clever banter with as they dissected the theories of various philosophers and historical figures with biting sarcasm and wit.

The teacher sighed. “It’s fine.” Then he added, without really thinking, “Take some comfort in that your father is actually yours. The resemblance is acute enough that’s indisputable.”

Tony blinked. “Oh.”

Loki glanced down at his desk.

"Was… was that-"

"Among other things," the teacher said quietly. "It was a dreadfully belated revelation, along with certain other matters I had been promised, but was then denied equal share in with my brother, who  _is_ Odin’s son. The fact that Thor’s single year as CEO caused their company to decline in value by half and make them a few new enemies, as well as putting them under closer government scrutiny is some comfort, I suppose. Odin took over again soon after.”

Tony whistled. “Damn.”

Loki offered a shrug.

"Uh, thank you. I’d wondered."

"It’s not too painful for me to speak of it. I do not mind you knowing, either." The teacher went back to grading papers in silence for almost half an hour. He glanced up and was moderately startled to catch Tony staring.

Of course, the boy wasn’t just staring. He was… looking a bit longing and besotted and then, as soon as Loki looked up, incredibly embarrassed to the point of flushing scarlet. “Sorry,” he squeaked.

Loki shifted slightly in his seat, glad to be behind a desk. It was unfair for someone so young and intelligent to also be very handsome and charming, and… innocent was the wrong word. Loki was all too aware that Tony was very, very far from inexperienced, and had prevented a few of the boy’s trysts with parties of two different genders on at least three occasions last year, until he’d had a long talk with Tony about discretion when it came to sexual intercourse in semi-public places within a boarding school. So the younger man was hardly innocent, per se, but perhaps it was  _vulnerability_ , Loki was seeing in him now, and finding himself uncomfortably affected by it. Guilt soured in his mouth at the thought. He shook his head dismissively, aiming for casual and probably failing enough Tony could see it, to the teacher’s chagrin. He tried to refocus on grading.

Tony’s eyebrows raised a little, his look shifting from embarrassment to something more intent, almost predatory. He was used to getting what he wanted, after all. “Is it _just_ the age thing?”

Loki grimaced, looked heavenward like he felt betrayed and might well swear vengeance, then sighed, looking back down at his papers. “No.”

"So it’s the age thing, and you being a teacher, and me technically being your student, and you feeling a bit like a creep?"

Loki glared at him warningly.

Tony grinned. “That’s not a no.”

"You aren’t wrong."

"Mr. L…" He sighed. "Loki."

"Don’t overstep, please?"

"Or what? You’ll punish me?" The younger man made it sound openly lascivious.

Mr. Laufeyson wasn’t the strictest teacher, was a spy and technically a bit of a criminal, but he had never once imagined bending any of his other students over a desk and running a ruler across their ass warningly just before landing one solid  _smack_. And the image flashed vividly across Loki’s mind now, and he felt his face heat and knew he was caught, now. In what, he still couldn’t say, but Tony Stark was eyeing him with curious interest, now, like he was trying to work out what had just gone through his teacher’s head and how he could find out.

"Interesting. You look a bit scandalised, so you hadn’t really thought about it before now, I take it?"

"Stop."

"No," Tony said quietly. "I want you, and I want to know how I can convince you that you aren’t corrupting me, since apparently a lot of kind of creepy cyberstalking, and your various lectures you’ve had to give me about all the sex I had last year, and the time I asked you for advice about experimenting with a girl who was, according to you, ‘the youngest dominatrix you’d ever heard of’ and how I later told you she was young but damned good at it––all that, hasn’t convinced you so far that I’m more than capable of knowing exactly what I want and pursuing it safely. I know you would stop if I asked, no matter how, uh, far things might, um…" He glanced at the ruler on the far left of Loki’s desk and blushed deeply. "Well. I know you’d stop, as soon as I asked. I can give you my safe-word if you like."

Loki rested one hand across both of his eyes and collapsed limply back in his chair, head falling back slightly over the back of it and a deep grimace on his face.

Tony waited, but felt a bit hurt, until he managed to process that the disgust in the expression Loki wore was directed inward. He held his breath in the silence, biting his lower lip impatiently.

"It’s not you I don’t trust, Tony," the teacher said quietly.

"I know. I trust you anyway."

Loki flinched. “You shouldn’t.”

"You saved my life a dozen times yesterday, even before you knew my father would have S.H.I.E.L.D. connections sufficient to figure out you had anything to do with my death and have you hunted down and killed, sir,” Tony reminded him. “You’re the only person––older than just my friends, anyway––I’ve ever met that I can be 100% honest with, and not fucking worry that you’ll use it against me, or stab me in the back, or condescend to me. You treat me like an adult already in so many ways no one else has been able to recognise that I can be treated, because they see just a punk kid, but you know how smart I am and how… how much I needed it, every time you spoke to me like an equal.”

Loki had his face behind both hands now, but he was still clearly listening.

"Plus, I fell in love with you over the Devil’s Dictionary thing, head over fucking heels, can I please have just a bit of a chance? I can wait, if you really want me to, but dammit, Loki, I dunno if you’ll still be where I can find you by the time I graduate."

Lowering both hands slowly, the teacher kept his eyes on the ceiling. “Improbability?” he asked, a little hoarsely.

" _Noun,_ " Tony said. " _His tale he told with a solemn face/ And a tender, melancholy grace./ Improbable ‘twas, no doubt/ When you came to think it out…_ "

Now Loki was staring at him. Really staring. Wide-eyed and like something in his  _heart_ had just cracked open.

So Tony kept going. “ _But the fascinated crowd/ Their deep surprise avowed/ And all with a single voice averred/’Twas the most amazing thing they’d heard!/ All save one, who spake never a word./ But sat as mum./ As if deaf and dumb./ Serene, indifferent and unstirred./ Then all the others turned to him/ And scrutinized him limb from limb/ Scanned him alive/ But he seemed to thrive/ And tranquiler grow each minute/ As if there were nothing in it./ ‘What what!’ cried one, ‘are you not amazed/ At what our friend has told?’ he raised/ Soberly then, his eyes and gazed/ In a natural way/ And proceeded to say/ As he crossed his feet on the mantel-shelf-_ ” Tony leaned back in his own seat, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles. “ _-‘O no; not at all –– I’m a liar myself.’_ ”

Loki swallowed convulsively.

"Yeah, I think that look on your face right now was about like the one I wore when I first read that," Tony said, his smile in equal parts hopeful and fearful of rejection. His expression was full of sincere want, and a bit of longing.

Loki inhaled a slow, shaky breath. “Okay.”

"Okay?" Tony squeaked. "O-okay what? Like, ‘Okay, so you memorised a poem, good for you?’ or like ‘Okay, please assume the position, and grip the edge of the desk tightly’ or ‘Okay, that’s awesome, but no thank you’ or-"

"I’m interested."

"O-oh," Tony said, blushing furiously. "O-okay."

"Never on school grounds. Not even in the, hm, smoking area."

The younger man nodded quickly. “So. Weekends.”

"When you have leave to… go home if possible or can otherwise forge your father’s signature to have yourself delivered to another address. A discreet one. I’ll provide it to you; it’s an unassuming location no one would blink twice at your father quartering in, but also a place I know the owners of very well. It is the safest place I have in town, and S.H.I.E.L.D. knows nothing of my connections to the place whatsoever. Nor does anyone else, save the people who run it.”

Tony was buzzing with adrenaline and delight and anticipation. He cleared his throat quietly. “Good, yeah. V-very. I…”

"You are certain about this?" Loki inquired gently, his brow slightly furrowed.

Tony nodded fervently. “Yes. Yes, yes I am. I am. Very much.”

The teacher smiled a little, almost shyly. “Good.”

"Yeah… excellent." He took a sharp breath and added a barely audible, "Th-thank you. For trusting me."

"I could very well say the same, Tony."

"Oh god it’s only Tuesday," the younger man suddenly realised, and said aloud with utter dismay.

"You’ll just have to be exceptionally good the rest of the week; however, I’m generously canceling your Saturday detentions.”

"Generously?" Tony mused wickedly.

"Patience," Loki assured, and picked up his grading pen again.

The younger man continued to stare a bit besottedly. This was going to be the longest goddamn week ever.

"I also read up on Spinoza," Tony said suddenly.

Loki’s incandescent smile in response was definitely consolation enough.

 

~~

 

Class was much harder for Tony to deal with when he happened to be _hard_. It was a fact of life he had learned early, and which he had managed to avoid for most of puberty after a few early, deeply embarrassing experiences.

That was before today. Thursday. The day before entering-a-hotel-room-with-Loki-Laufeyson-eve. The teacher in question was not making it easy on him.

The worst part was that _shirt_. And his _voice_. And the fact _every word was fucking brilliance talking about clever computer science_ because he was answering a really damned clever question from Bruce Banner, who was Tony’s toughest competition for top of their class, and _golden sunlight was pouring in through the window_ across Mr. Laufeyson’s pale skin and dark hair, side-lighting up his green eyes still brighter and casting stupidly perfect shadows on that _damned shirt_.

It was Mr. Laufeyson’s usual habit, when doing anything truly extensive at the chalkboard, to remove his suit-jacket, and roll up his shirt-sleeves; however, today’s suit included pants that were––while still classy and not actually inappropriate––ridiculously flattering, and that shirt was an Egyptian cotton and silk blend that clung like liquid, even though it was clearly not skin-tight, but it might as well have been transparent. Tony could see every line of muscle, and even the shape of the man’s nipples through it. It was indecent. It was _glorious_. Tony Stark had never wanted to trade places with a shirt, or even possibly _be_ a shirt, so strongly before in his life.

“Does that answer your question, Mr. Banner?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, thank you.”

“Are you okay, Tony?” Rhodey asked, over to his left, and Tony tried to turn and look, but noticed Loki’s head tilt slightly, so that while he didn’t look at them it was somehow clear that he was _listening_ in their direction. The gorgeous bastard had such impeccable restraint, sometimes, that it made Tony sickly envious. In comparison he felt too loud, too clumsy, and faced with Loki’s seemingly effortless grace, his words tended to scatter and sentences go a bit haywire, and his own self-control sort of stall out like a bad engine. It had taken him half the school year to fully realize that all of those things added up to a desire to have Loki’s control applied to himself in some very _particular_ ways, but the older man being already hesitant to get into a relationship at all made Tony hesitant to bring that up; although it wasn’t like Mr. Laufeyson didn’t know this particular pupil’s tastes were that way inclined, given he remained the only person Tony had discussed those sort of things with in detail.

And all that time, he hadn’t gotten any hint that Loki even thought of him as attractive, because Loki hadn’t even considered it. Hadn’t thought to want it, until Tony had asked, and somehow that had triggered a series of attraction-based epiphanies in the teacher’s mind, which his pupil was still struggling to puzzle out.

“Tony?”

He’d gotten lost in thought. Again. Kept happening, lately. “S’fine, I’m fine,” Tony said, leaning over to elbow his friend and shake off his distraction.

“What were you thinking about, man? You were totally spaced.”

“Pep told me she has a crush on Ms. Romanoff. I got to thinking about it and found it really, really distracting,” he lied effortlessly.

Rhodey laughed loudly, then paused with a slightly glazed look. “Actually, wow, damn, I don’t blame you.”

“See?”

“I shouldn’t!” his friend suddenly hissed, with dawning horror. “I have them both in my next class, dude, that’s so unfair and not cool,” Rhodey groaned, sinking low in his chair as he did so, the words seeming to float up as he lowered down. He also covered his ears as though to block out Tony’s accursed words; although it was clearly both too late, and ineffective, based on his reaction a moment later when he snapped up as soon as Mr. Laufeyson gravely intoned, “It is generally preferred for students’ bodies to remain vertically upright in their seats, Mr. Rhodes, unless your skeleton has suddenly failed you and you had need to suddenly collapse.”

“No sir,” Rhodey assured, perfect posture regained. “Just my dignity.”

The reacher shot him a brief, approving smirk for his wit. “Then we must all admire your ability to recover it so quickly. Perhaps Mr. Stark particularly could learn a great deal from you in matters of comportment and dignity.” He shot a pointed glance at where Tony’s slouched repose caused his legs to stick out almost a foot in front of his desk, as was his wont, because he was in the front row and usually no one stopped him, but his fellow students were clearly amused by the jibe, and their quiet snickering demanded response.

Tony grinned brightly, guided purely by instinct as his heart pounded, and very deliberately in mimicry of the precise timing and style he had executed the movement before, during a recent poetry-recitation: he lifted one leg smoothly and let it drop just so his ankles crossed, and said, “Dignity is overrated.”

 

~~

 

Loki Laufeyson was 100% certain that he was losing what scant shreds of pseudo-sanity he might have left, and that it was all Tony Stark’s fault. The boy––young man––young man of consenting age who was ridiculously intelligent and clever and wealthy and bored and clearly had no business falling into the midst of mostly-digital-but-still-occasionally-all-too-physical-and-potentially-bloody secret wars, let alone getting into bed with a madman neck deep in them, except that aside from the three-near-death-experiences parts the boy had kept cool-headed and really had a _knack_ for it, Loki could easily tell, but that was all the more reason he shouldn’t go _near_ it, _or_ a certain Loki Laufeyson––couldn’t possibly know the power of his own words.

 _Dignity is overrated_ , he said.

The mental image which unceremoniously erupted in Loki’s mind just then, of Tony spread out on linen sheets, flushed and exposed and biting his lip, letting his teeth drag, much the way the not-fantasy Tony Stark was doing just then, was an inspiring one. It took every ounce of control and well-practiced misdirection-oriented demeanor that the teacher possessed, to avoid showing any outward sign of any even remotely inappropriate thoughts––for which Loki privately thought that he deserved no less than an Oscar nomination. After a mere second or two to indulge the laughter and rolled eyes of the other students, and a slow inhalation, Mr. Laufeyson donned his most authoritative mien and strode from the chalkboard toward Tony’s desk, each footstep a very solid, almost predatory slow _ta-clack_ on the tile, louder as he drew closer and sufficiently ominous to drive down the remaining chatter into expectant silence.

When he stopped, mere inches from Tony’s extended feet, the teacher pulled one foot back, and let it swing gently forward to tap just audibly against the middle of Tony’s left sole. After smiling sweetly at the way the younger man’s pupils very visibly dilated and his ears reddened, Mr. Laufeyson then proceeded to scathe, in his most acerbic tones––causing some of the other students’ eyes to widen slightly, because they had never heard him use that voice on _Tony_ , or any of his more witty known-favorite pupils such as Banner, Kitty Pryde and Reed Richards––“Come now, Mr. Stark. Do try on a _little_ dignity, for a change. If you’re truly lucky it might actually come to suit you.”

It did strange things to Tony’s stomach and––yep also in the region right below his stomach. He’d known before that he enjoyed this teacher’s more commanding tones, but the added serene condescension and sternness made Tony ache just a bit more to push him further, followed closely by an uncomfortably intimate sensation of embarrassment that tapped into obedience-inspiring instincts the student hadn’t even known were in him, to his slight chagrin, until that very moment. It also didn’t help at all that these instincts, once tapped, caused him to instantaneously change from comfortably and confidently lounging, to straight-backed with both feet on the floor. Luckily, only Rhodey quite noticed the expressions on his face that went with it, before Tony could mask any of them.

“Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson,” Tony said, with just slightly more softness than he had quite intended, and he tried to cover it with a self-deprecating smile, but his gaze might have remained a bit too sincerely embarrassed. He didn’t miss the way Loki’s eyes widened for a moment in response, reading in it something the teacher either hadn’t expected to find, or hadn’t expected to _like_ so much, and Tony wondered what it was. Then the teacher’s composure reaffixed and he said curtly, “Thank you. Now, back to our review, since we all seem too have gotten spectacularly side-tracked.”

Tony bit his tongue to keep from teasing, _So you find me_ spectacular _? Well, I’m flattered_ , or something equally ridiculous. The look he shot Loki communicated the thought well enough, when the teacher made the mistake of making eye contact. The corner of the teacher’s lips thinned a little, in the barest hint of a mocking smile, daring him right back, that threatened to bring the original source of discomfort––in the region of his lap––and suggested that this might become his perpetual state whenever in this man’s presence, even as the susurrations of teasing from his classmates finally faded out and focus returned to Mr. Laufeyson’s lessons.

Only then did Tony dare glance at his old friend and instantly he knew he’d been had, finding Rhodey already long-settled into his most smug ‘check _out_ this motherfucker’ expression, which had likely been aimed at him for the past few seconds that he’d been barely-succeeding at not getting caught eye-fucking his teacher by everyone behind him and on his other side... because he had _trusted_ Rhodey, which he hoped was conveyed in his expression as he silently mouthed, “What?” in an accusatory fashion.

Rhodey looked pointedly at Mr. Laufeyson’s back for a few seconds, then fixed his attention right back onto Tony’s face for another couple of seconds before he mouthed unhurriedly, “You **_lied_** , didn’t you?”

Tony’s forehead hit the desk in front of him with a loud thunk and his traitorous friend committed further outrageous calumny by giggling at him in a way that told his now-blushing friend that he was well and truly caught.

 

~~

 

“At least I can rest easy knowing he’ll call you on your shit like that,” Rhodey said, as soon as they were out of Mr. Laufeyson’s classroom (and hearing range, since the man was infamously like a bat, sometimes, with his hearing and his ability to appear suddenly looming over private conversations) and caused his friend some considerable confusion.

“Uh, what?”

“He’s never talked to you like that, before, until you kind of blatantly flirted with him. It’s obvious he’s having none of it, man. None of your longing stares at his ass or his hands or smirking besottedly at his witticisms will get you anywhere, he’s not like your usual faire.”

“Wait, that was flirting? By my standards?” Tony asked, genuinely a bit disconcerted. He hadn’t considered himself to have quite _that_ flavor of _je ne sais quois_. “I always thought I came across as a little more enigmatic and sharp.” It was good to focus on that, rather than the realization that Loki was unutterably brilliant at this misdirection-away-from-any-suspicion-of-goings-on thing that Tony felt a bit outclassed, considering he’d been the one to request this affair be... an affair. That actually hadn’t even started yet. _Dammit_.

“Well, depends on, uh, which pole of the Tony Stark spectrum, actually,” Rhodey said slowly, like he had only just realized it.

“Uh... poles?”

“Because there’s been everyone else you’ve ever ‘hooked up’ with, and there’s Pepper Potts,” his friend said, rolling his eyes like he thought Tony was being deliberately obtuse.

“Uh...” Tony cleared his throat. “Do I... want to know which pole this qualifies for?”

“I’m not sure I do,” Rhodey deadpanned, “but I do.”

“It’s... okay, so maybe it’s a little bit exactly what you’re thinking, but it’s not as bad as you’re thinking, I mean, really why would it be so bad?” Tony sputtered helplessly, before he could stop himself, because he did worry. He did worry if his crazy was going too crazy, and Rhodey was one of the people he felt best able to trust to tell him when it got there. He did, at least, manage to keep his volume to a whisper just loud enough not to carry beyond their lockers, once they arrived there, on their way to lunch.

“He’s almost _thirty_.”

“Twenty-seven is barely ‘almost thirty’,” Tony protested, neglecting to mention that Loki would technically be twenty-eight in just two months. Because he knew Rhodey would argue that, because...

“ _Ten_ years older than you.”

“Yes.”

“ _Eleven_ years older than me, barely!”

“Rhodey-”

“He’s our _teacher_ , Tony. It would be taking advant-”

“ _Look-_ ” Tony cut him off sharply. “I am of consenting age, I know exactly what I want and how to be as physically safe about it as possible, and emotionally I know this isn’t exactly anything with promise of––much, really, beyond physical, but I actually trust him, okay? Like I trust you, but if you were smoking hot gorgeous like you walked out of Shakespearean theater and into a GQ modeling career, and then somehow sauntered into a boarding school wearing immaculate bespoke suits and being ridiculously perceptive and secretive and sarcastic and poshly mannered, but still sort of giving certain varieties of petty rules the finger because at heart you clearly listened to a lot of punk music at a key time in your life that you’ll never let die!”

Rhodey was staring at him in open horror. “What the fuck are you smoking?”

“Nothing, at the moment, sadly. It’s this infatuation, you see. I really am actually serious about it to the point you sort of almost crushing me with despair and hopelessness that my flirting hadn’t been even a little effective and he really does hate me, kind of hurt my feelings,” Tony insisted.

“You’re a twisted man, Tony Stark.”

“It did, okay? I mean, I know what I’m doing, except the parts in between where I have _no idea_ what I’m _doing_ , and I just––is this really too far? Would this––would I lose you? Could you still respect me even for what looks, at first and second glance, like a very poor life decision, but that I swear to you will make me extremely happy for a while and won’t kill me or get me into trouble––I mean, think about if I succeed, I get the master of inconspicuousness back in that classroom helping me, and he’s _genius_ at it––in any ways I can’t get out of... _probably_ most likely (eighty-percent likely) you won’t have to save my ass from down the line?”

Rhodey looked pained as he did so, but he did seriously consider it. “You wouldn’t lose me,” he said slowly. “Eighty-percent is some bullshit, though.”

“I’m serious!”

“You really think he’s that good?” There was a deeper question there, as to whether Tony thought he could trust anyone who could keep a secret _as serious and nigh-criminal as this_ completely on the down low.

With every bit of his own half-truth, half-sincerity cocktail blend, Tony assured him calmly, “ _If_ I can somehow tap... or get tapped by that? Yeah, he’s pretty much the only man of his age I’d ever actually trust with this, okay? There are even a couple of younger teachers in this school, real fresh blood, that I wouldn’t touch with a _stolen_ dick.”

Rhodey snorted an ugly laugh at that despite himself. “Fuck you, man, that’s not what I mean-”

“I know, what you mean. He’s already, uh, keeping a lot of other things way quieter, sort of? Things you will never guess and I will never plausible-deniability-is-your-friend-especially-with-my-dad-and-government-contracts-involved tell you, and you shouldn’t ask me too much about, or think much about if possible.”

“If. Possible.”

“Any chance?”

“Tony...”

“It’s hacking, it’s nothing, don’t use the ‘making a scene’ voice!”

“You have made this well deserving of a scene,” Rhodey snapped.

“Jamie, please,” Tony hissed, reverting to a nickname they hadn’t used in almost a decade, and seeing his old friend really hesitate. “I’m serious. About... this. I know it’s serious, which is why bringing attention to me-” He glanced absently back and forth over both of Rhodey’s shoulders, quickly spotting people turning their heads toward them on their way down the hall to lunch: one third of all their peers, passing by them now. “-or causing any major rumors about something out of the norm happening with my behavior or my known associates’ behaviors, even much more than this, should be not be a thing. Please.”

Rhodey looked surprised, then, and a bit impressed “You? Toning everything down? Really?”

“Yeah, actually, it’s already started, and I only noticed yesterday. I think it was the cyberstalking, and then it snowballed.”

“He did what?”

“No, no, I meant I was.”

His friend slow-blinked at him. “You fucking kidding me?”

“Well, to me, after enough staring and sort of memorizing his habits and making note of little peculiarities and how oddly fascinating they fit together like a mozaic, except they didn’t quite fit, or they did, but the way they fit made it clear there were some conspicuous missing sections, the longer I looked, because the longer I looked, the more I could see a pattern in what sort of stuff was missing, and it turns out spies and cyber-warfare. It’s kind of terrifying, but extremely casual, because so far, no one knows it was me Tuesday with the... you’re giving me a look.”

“Tuesday, when you had all that bruising on your arms, and you smelled like someone rolled you around in a bonfire with a chemistry set in it? Which you still haven’t  remembered to explain to me?”

Tony winced. “Right. That. I got distracted.”

“By his ass.”

“By his gloriously sweet ass.”

“I’ll take your word for it on the relative sweetness of it. I dunno if I like any of this, Tony, this sounds like some serious shit!”

“Look, I didn’t even do that thing you called ‘flirting’ on purpose, with him. It was genuinely a reflexive response, that I half-assedly tried to cover up and make remotely dignified, except I failed,” Tony sighed. “There’s... maybe some slightly obsessive qualities to this attraction that I’ve been holding back as much of as possible in public.”

“I appreciate it. Is this going back to your fixation on the punk part of his heart that will never die?”

“Please forget I said any of that.”

“Oh, I’m trying. It won’t go. I may never forgive you,” Rhodey deadpanned.

“Sorry?”

His friend sighed. “You’re insane, Tony. How worried should I be?”

“Twenty-percent.”

“Don’t bullshit me, man.”

The inventor hesitated, running a hand through his own hair about three times as he stared into space thoughtfully. “Twenty-six point two eight percent.”

Rhodey blinked at him. “I do think you’re an extraterrestrial, sometimes. I want you to know, it’s theory number four.”

“What’s number three?”

“Experimented on my extraterrestrials and let loose back into the wild.”

Tony nodded. “Nice choice. Number two?”

“You’re part cyborg and partially immortal with a couple of faulty memory issues and your father has trapped you perpetually in different high schools for so long you know the systems better than any teachers who ever lived––except, alright, maybe Laufeyson––except you don’t remember it all consciously; it just comes out like what’s supposed to prevent you remembering is leaking due to some virus you designed yourself to take it apart.”

Tony blinked. “Wow. You gave that a lot of thought.”

“That was the time you didn’t tell me what illicit extra ingredient had been cooked into a number of baked goods at a certain party,” Rhodey said flatly.

“Oh man, you ate like a whole tray. You were saying the craziest shit.”

“Yeah. You cyborg.”

“Oh my god, you did keep saying that,” Tony suddenly recalled.

“Uh-huh. I know.”

His friend hesitated. “Oh, I thought you forgot the ‘Mr. Roboto’ dance-off part of that party.”

“Nope.”

“Dare I ask number one?”

“You’re genuinely human, which is almost more terrifying than all other options.”

“You jackass.”

“And you’re alien-cyborg jailbait.”

“I’m _technically legal_ , I swear!”

“I wonder if that one ever came up on Jerry Springer.”

Tony snorted. “Probably.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

Rhodey sighed. “Don’t get killed or I swear to god I will tell your dad about Laufeyson just to add insult to injury.”

“Woah, dude.”

“Too far?”

“No... no, dude, I’m fucking impressed,” Tony grit out. “It feels like I’ve been gutted, holy shit.”

Rhodey looked like he was half-afraid to laugh. “Look I didn’t mean t-”

“I know you didn’t, but seeing your face when you thought I though you might be serious just then was fucking brilliant.”

“Dude, seriously, you looked like you were about to cry.”

Tony sniggered helplessly and leaned back against the lockers. Eventually, Rhodey was laughing too.

“Thanks,” Tony sighed. “I... was scared.”

“That I’d what? Tell your-”

“Not that. I mean, thank you that I can trust that you’d tell me if this was... uh... a step too crazy? Even for me? If you thought maybe it really was and I was actually being genuinely stupid instead of just blinded by my own brilliance to such a degree I crash into shit?”

“Blinded by your own brilliance is what you’re going with? How about a puppy on a slippery wooden floor trying to go through a hair-pin turn? That’s more truly your navigation through life!”

Tony shrugged. “I relate to the puppy. The puppy aspires to the best acceleration and just doesn’t prioritize the brakes enough. I aspire to be as amazing and awesome as possible, and sometimes I neglect things that might explode as a result. We have much in common, this puppy and I.”

“Are you done?”

“Maybe. Never. You like it?”

“Most of the time. I’ll tell you, when uh, it gets to the point I ever feel like maybe I can’t trust you with yourself.” He cleared his throat quietly. “If you need me to, I will.”

“I’ll need you to,” Tony promised, self-deprecating and dead certain.

Rhodey nodded. “Thanks. For warning me. I’ll do it.”

Tony squeezed his shoulder firmly. “Thanks. Just... thanks.”

“Don’t kiss me, please. You were just thinking about our programming teacher, don’t even touch me with your filthy perverted hands.”

Tony mock-swooned. “How shall I ever survive this rejection?!”

“Get laid, and never ever tell me how you achieved it or indeed anything else about it if the other participant is older than twenty-one!”

“Aww, is this you giving me permission to court him so long as I don’t tell you all about it?”

“...Actually, yeah.”

“Sweet. We have a deal.”

“I mean unless, like, serious shit-”

“Right, bro code overrules, that’s understood.”

“Cool. I hoped so.”

“I got it, man. I’m but mad North-North... Laufeyson.”

“Did you just make a Shakespearean joke about him?

“Well...”

“I think I just got a cavity, but it’s weird, it’s like... it was designed by Tim Burton!”

“Oh come on.”

“I’m telling you, those cheekbones of his are worn only by gods, Nephilim, and Tim Burton animated works.”

Tony laughed helplessly at that joke, which he recalled from after the first occasion Rhodey had ever spoken to Mr. Laufeyson. He let his old friend drag him to the cafeteria, still laughing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot happens and Obadiah Stane is a jackass.
> 
> Also a hotel room is visited, and thoroughly enjoyed.

Given just how traceable matters digital were, the small folded sheet of paper Mr. Laufeyson slipped into Tony’s hand with a pickpocket’s grace while handing out graded tests on Friday (the younger man hadn’t even noticed it until he went to set the test down and felt it shift in his palm) really was the safest delivery option.

Tony memorized the address and time easily, and quietly destroyed the paper.

He spent most of Friday night manually going through S.H.I.E.L.D.’s data, and his father’s more private servers where he kept things he didn’t trust S.H.I.E.L.D. with, to make certain that address appeared nowhere within any of their records concerning Loki Laufeyson––not even their search history. He wound up developing a couple of filter programs to speed up the process and also make sure the address wasn’t elsewhere connected to any other people. It turned out that it was, but only because former Agent Natasha Romanoff had spent a night there once while seeking out an unrelated target: a member of the Hand.

It was 3am, which is what Tony blamed for how long it took him to process that _former Agent Natasha Romanoff_ also worked at his goddamn school.

He decided, after that, to just go to bed. Next he would find out Principal Coulson was also connected to S.H.I.E.L.D. or something, and he wasn’t prepared to face that without at least a few hours of sleep to help him cope. He then slept until noon because he could, and because he had nowhere else to be until seven in the evening.

He ate sparingly, too nervous to have much of an appetite, made sure the appropriate school officials all had seen the forged letter from his dad that was his ticket to getting off of school grounds (along with the bus fare in his pockets) to where he needed to be. Late afternoon he took what was quite possibly the most thorough shower and grooming session of his life. It wasn’t that he hadn’t cleaned certain places before (he remembered a certain dominatrix very fondly for a moment at the thought; she’d really enjoyed using various strap-ons, and had been the one to enlighten him about certain ways to make clean-up all-around easier) for various partners, but something about this occasion made him take his time with everything, and even indulge in a bit more trimming and fussing over himself than usual. He wanted to blame just being nervous, but really, he wanted to impress, as much as possible, but Loki was so damned graceful and immaculate all the time, and Tony had often felt unkempt and sort of crude in comparison in the other man’s presence over the past year, and the long grooming session alleviated most of that feeling, which would have to be good enough.

Finally he left school grounds, but still had over two hours to kill before it would even be feasible to head to the hotel without being ridiculously early. He killed the time in a movie theater before hailing a cab and heading to face his fate.

He was still a bit over ten minutes early, by the time he was smiling at the girl behind the check-out desk and telling her a false name he and Mr. Laufeyson had agreed upon ahead of time. She handed him a key and provided him directions.

The hotel was an expensive one, which catered to clientele with a fondness for old-world flair. It looked like it had fallen out of the height of the 1920’s, and had survived as a place for a certain class of independently wealthy people to indulge discreetly in things they shouldn’t, ever since then. It had been a speakeasy, a brothel, and eventually a hotel again, bought up, restored and revived after a couple of world wars had passed and a prosperous family seized upon the place they had seen as a romantic icon of the past. The family had, since then, upgraded its functionality from the electrical systems, to new appliances and smoother mechanical apparatuses for things like the elevators, but carefully hid all these changes behind carefully-maintained veneer of antique decorative touches.

By the time Tony had made all of these observations and recalled the research that informed some of it, he was halfway up the grand staircase and his hands had begun to shake. It took him about five minutes at the foot of the next, smaller flight of stairs, and a couple of different breathing exercises, to regain his outward composure. He didn’t want to seem afraid. He was, a little, but he wanted this far too much to make Loki think that might be reason to... not do things. All sorts of things.

Glorious things.

He did ask himself, when the hotel door he sought was at last in sight, whether he wanted to turn back. He paused to consider it for a long moment, then dismissed it with a hint of a self-indulgent grin. _No way. Not when it’s about to get so interesting._

Despite his quiet footsteps, the old wooden floorboards still occasionally groaned or creaked underfoot, as antique wood was wont to do. Reaching the door whose number matched his key, Tony unlocked it, and hesitated only slightly before knocking, not quite ready to open the door.

Muffled slightly, but with a hint of echo, sounding like Loki was in the en suite and calling teasingly toward the door, “Do come in, Tony. I’m honestly shocked your impatience did not bring you here sooner.”

Tony snorted at himself and opened the door, pocketing his key after he’d locked it again behind him. He took in the layout of the room at a glance––yes, it looked like Loki was in the en suite bathroom, and he could hear water running. The room was large enough that despite being equipped with a four-poster bed with thick wooden bedposts that was at least a queen-size, it wasn’t dwarfed by it. Half of the opposite wall was taken up by what appeared to be a sitting area, and even a small fireplace, while the other half seemed to be set aside for a desk, a bookshelf and a balcony-seat surrounded by windows in the corner.

Of course, when Loki called for him to make himself at home, Tony took it as permission to snoop around, and didn’t even set down his own bag before proceeding to do so, walking around the room once, then homing in on Mr. Laufeyson’s suitcase on the side of the bed furthest from the door. At first, Tony could see little more than folded clothing that seemed unremarkable, and the man’s wallet, but when he stepped around the bed he was forced to pause and stare, because the world stopped making sense for a few moments.

“Why are there women’s flats and a pin-striped pencil skirt on your floor?” Tony asked, astounded at haw calm and perfectly casual his voice sounded to his own ears. He had been expecting either panicked doubt–– _what if those aren’t his?!_ ––and arousal–– _oh, but what if they_ ** _are_** ––but apparently experiencing both at once to such an intense degree settled him into a zen-like, perplexed state of shock enough to sound almost normal.

“Absurd as it may sound, to avoid being followed absolutely everywhere I may go, thanks to S.H.I.E.L.D. being on alert where my activities are concerned, thanks to your explosive foray into my side-business, I have to resort to more low-tech forms of misdirection and trickery to shake off their field operative watch-dogs and keep them off my tail for any respectable length of time.” The running water shut off and the half-open bathroom door was pushed open much further.

Tony was now imagining Loki Laufeyson in a pencil skirt. With _those legs_. Only lifelong-honed habitual snark rendered him able to manage a coherent remark. “Low-tech, as in, you dress in drag?” he asked, trying to sound lascivious, but losing track a bit (his overnight bag falling numbly from his hand) as he turned and looked at his teacher, who now stood in the bathroom doorway with hands on the doorframe. The reason Tony lost track was that despite the incredible array of indecent imagery his mind came up with just based on the pencil skirt, he was far from prepared to see his teacher dressed only in a fully-unbuttoned white button-down rolled up to the elbows, black briefs, black garter belt, dark green garters and knee-high black stockings. Idly, Tony had to seriously consider whether this sight could possibly be improved upon, and thought perhaps silkier underwear, but then glanced down again and realized _certain already-impressive-though-not-yet-at-attention_ things of Loki’s might not be contained easily by anything less, but the ensuing mental image of that caused his few remaining braincells to fry to nothing as he sharply forced his eyes back up to Loki’s and emitted a somewhat unmanly sound between a whine and a moan.

Loki smirked at him, openly entertained. “I had a feeling this might elicit such a reaction.” He raised an eyebrow and looked Tony up and down appraisingly, taking in the fine black denim jeans and thin, tight maroon t-shirt the younger man wore, and every line of muscle and bone beneath. “Mm. That said, we should talk, first.”

“I’m clean,” Tony said, almost reflexively.

“As am I,” the teacher assured. “It’s also been... almost five years since I’ve done this without it doubling as business, usually information-gathering, and never involving my work at our school. As much as you’ve expressed interest in certain, ah, proclivities we do share...” Loki cleared his throat. “I’m uncertain about those aspects, presently.”

“You worried you’ll be too intense?”

“Among other concerns, that would be one of them.”

“I think it’s kind of more that I make you feel exceptionally protective in a way that you think might also make you disconcertingly possessive and say things you don’t want me to misinterpret.”

Loki’s eyes widened slightly.

“I’m a genius, and while a teenager, my self-control is such that yeah, I’ll still be reading you despite how much of my blood usually up here in my brain might be, ah, busy elsewhere.” He adjusted his half-hard erection in his jeans absently, as if just remembering it.

“I haven’t even seen my _self_ in the mindset of domination for a very long time. I no longer know what you might see in me,” the teacher said quietly. “I don’t know what I will, either.” He swallowed tightly. “That doesn’t mean I’m not being driven mad by curiosity as a result, either. I’d prefer you, in any case, to be aware of all factors involved, and encourage you to stop me if I am any less than myself, for my own sake as much as yours.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “You have any violent history, though, with sex partners?”

“No.”

“Then what-”

“I don’t know. I haven’t felt quite this...” His eyes narrowed. “You’re maddening, I will have you know. I hadn’t even thought-” He covered his face with one hand.

“And now you can’t stop thinking?”

“Yes,” Loki said tersely.

“How did you see me, before you thought about it?”

“Someone who knew better than to court a monster, Tony,” Loki said dryly, shooting him a bitter, weary look that aged him more than it should have. “You tracked my past down, you’ve clearly worked out there are skeletons in numerous closets that I’ve bricked up in places I might not even remember where to find all of, anymore, and here you are, and yet even _I_ would trust you here.” He gestured at the younger man as though this final feat were evidence of Loki’s own lost grip on reality. “I trust you. And you made me realize that because as much as––” He took a breath. “As much as you, ah, suggest I’ve aided you, by treating you as an equal and seeing you as one, I have never been both _trusted_ and _valued_ by anyone the way that you give to me, and you made me see that, when you asked me for this, here, whatever comes of it. That, I cannot cease thinking about.”

“As for how I saw you before... you’re impossible, you might have almost infinite potential in the world in five years’ time, just yourself, even without whatever inheritance you might gain from your father in decades to come after that, _you_ are a dangerous cocktail of genius-level intellect, anti-authority sentiments, brashness and fearless questioning of all things, as well as sheer daring cheek; and before this, I saw _that_ in you. Daily. That you are a student whom it has been my honor to teach, because I will have known you, and been important to you, not long before you take the world by storm with whatever you chose to do in your life.”

Tony stared at him, eyes like saucers. “Holy shit, are you in love with me too?”

Loki paled very quickly. “Pardon?”

“You love crustpunk don’t you?”

“Did you dig through my music collection, too? Is _nothing_ sacred to you?” the teacher hissed almost incredulously, then shook it off. “What does that have to do with my question? Or yours, which I would really like you to clarify?”

“I didn’t look through your music, that was a guess. I just... have a list of songs that make me think of you? Uh... wow, did that sound as much like a teenage fangirl as I think it just did? Why did you think letting me keep talking was ever a good idea?”

Loki sniggered suddenly, helplessly. “I don’t know which of us is more ridiculous.”

“I’d say something about the stockings, but they look many things, and ‘ridiculous’ isn’t anywhere near the top ten, which mostly consists of lickable, bite-able, and other things ending in -able.” He thought about it. “Also ‘tasty’.”

“Would you like me to make you look ridiculous?” the teacher asked lightly, eyes darkening just slightly, tone lightly teasing.

“Uh... depends on how sexy you find ridiculousness?”

“Well, I _am_ attracted to _you_ ,” Loki responded.

“Make me more like myself, then,” Tony challenged. “Not the future me you’ve been shooting appreciative looks at while seeing me myself as a kid.”

“You say that, but there’s decidedly different ways to do that. Did I look at you as thought you were childish or naive? No––well perhaps childish, but usually just during class, when you deliberately _were_. Did I look at you as being in a position wherein I am meant to be a protector and guide to you, in the role of a teacher, and such a position requires me to have no _selfish_ interest in you as a means of respecting your future being brighter than any I would even consider imagining myself in, before then?” Loki inquired. “Yes.”

Tony swallowed tightly, unprepared for that one. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“And, uhm, after then?”

Loki smiled tightly. “I had to admit that any future of mine would be brighter with more of you in it. I can’t help but want for that, can I?”

“You afraid of casting a shadow?” Tony asked lightly, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Terrified, actually. Deeply so.”

“Me too, but more sort of... explosions, with me. I mean... I’d have found out a lot of what I know just from digging things up on you, about S.H.I.E.L.D. and all this war you’ve got going on, within a couple years. There were already people trying to get me into it on different sides, and all, I just didn’t realize until Tuesday quite what they were trying to pitch to me.”

Loki looked thoughtful, at that. “So, if anything... you’re better forewarned.”

“And I have you as a resource.” Tony grinned fiercely.

Loki felt the world tip just slightly, and smirked, suddenly feeling just a little less like the most dangerous creature in the room. “Well done.”

“By the way, one of them was the Ten Rings, and they tried to offer to sell me some Stark Industries tech, which we should look into later, because I will raise some hell, about that. I designed two of those models myself, thank you, and the fact they’re selling them is not at all okay!” He paused. “Oh. Uh. Engineering, by the way. That’s what I’m doing, y’know, with my life and storming and all, and it’s not because of Howard; although I’ll probably wind up working most of my life to prove that, and/or finding some ways to make him extremely angry and scandalized and try to disown me, because that would definitely cinch the whole ‘not for him’ thing. Thoughts?”

His teacher considered, then began to smirk a little viciously. “Just wait until your graduation and I’ll end my career to that end, if we manage to both survive that long.”

“You make it sound like this place is some kind of Hellmouth.”

Loki looked suddenly stricken, at that. “Did my life just become an exceptionally morbid sitcom?”

“Since I’m the student and more likely to be the protagonist... Are you my bad-boy love interest? Or is the sitcom British?”

“Good question, really. That would certainly change the dynamic. You’d be my boy-toy, and I would be the 007 equivalent of Blackadder.”

Tony thought about it and his eyes widened. “I think it’s both.”

They managed to contemplate the whole idea with mock-horror for approximately half a second before Tony snorted a laugh and Loki chuckled softly.

“Wait, you’d seriously support doing that to my dad?”

Loki smirked a bit slyly. “Given what you’ve told me about him, and all the minor ways his behavior reminded me rather mortifyingly of Odin, I would say: absolutely yes.”

Tony closed the distance between them in two short strides and kissed Loki firmly, just appreciative and somehow chaste, before he pulled back. “You’re perfect.”

“You’re insane.”

“So are you.”

The teacher seemed about to protest, then hesitated.

“See? That’s why, to me, you are perfect, and eventually I’ll convince you to let me stick around, and try to persuade you why I think so.”

“And I’m enamored with your insanity, right, yes I see.”

“Y-you are?”

“I was supposed to take the world by storm, and I made a mess of... many things, when matters fell apart with my family. I caused a very great deal of pain,” Loki confessed. “Perhaps I can help you with your own storms.” He shrugged and added, self-deprecatingly, “After all, those who cannot do, _teach_.”

Tony prodded him. “I’m sorry, remind me what your side-business is?”

“Well... I never said I wasn’t also making my own efforts regardless. I failed once when I lacked reason to see clearly and made several terrible decisions. I’ve cleared my head considerably, since then.”

“So you’re proposing a joint venture?” Tony suggested, leaning close enough their chests brushed. It occurred to him that he was still wearing a shirt and Loki wasn’t and he still had a hand on his teacher’s deliciously naked shoulder from kissing him a few moments before, and more bare skin should totally be happening.

“Perhaps. This is going to seem like a Hellmouth soon enough if the Ten Rings was suddenly willing to expose Obadiah Stane to you, and with you and I both targets. How _ever_ will you get to MIT next year?”

“At this point, actually, they’d probably be pretty accommodating, given how hard they tried to get me there last year,” Tony mused.

Loki looked momentarily stunned. “Pardon?”

“Oh. You didn’t hear about that?”

“You presume school administrators communicate with me so willingly and about details they don’t consider to be my business?”

Tony winced. “Ooh, good point. They really hate you. Except their leader.” He looked disturbed. “The fact that she likes you still frightens me somehow.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“It pissed off Howard pretty bad, for one, but that was actually just fringe benefit I had no problem emphasizing. It was right after things fell apart with Pepper, and you were still the only person I could really talk to about it without getting a pity-face or told I was an idiot, or both, and at the time I really, really did not like the prospect of going straight from that, to my first year of college miles the hell away from Rhodey, and you, and Pepper because yes heartache and agony but also important friend despite that, eventually, and then incidentally did I mention the very suggestion of it made Howard explode and that instinctively made me want to stick to my guns, because of all of his speeches about never losing touch with human connections because of my responsibility to my legacy et cetera, et cetera, when more often than not he had an active hand in alienating many of my friendly human connections over the years? Yeah, that happened.”

Loki touched the side of his face, then, tracing his fingertips down his cheek to cup his jaw and tilt his head up until the younger man again looked up at him. “I feel rather wretchedly selfish, in being glad that you did.”

Tony leaned into the touch. “I promise I didn’t start the cyberstalking until a while after making that decision, if it helps. You don’t get to think that had anything to do with you, more than all the rest.”

Leaning down to kiss him softly, then, slow and teasing enough to thoroughly distract the teenager from his train of thought. “Don’t let me hurt you, and I won’t regret a thing, Tony. That’s my only rule.”

“You have to believe me when I say it doesn’t hurt bad enough you should actually stop,” Tony demanded.

Loki let out a quick breath. “I believe you mentioned a safe-word?”

Knees feeling suddenly a little weak, the younger man nodded fervently.

“Say it.”

“Coulson.”

Loki grimaced. “I should certainly hope you’re unlikely to utter that _unintentionally_ when I’m involved,” he deadpanned.

“Exactly!” Tony concurred, and then slid to his knees.

The teacher sucked in a breath and tightened his left hand’s grip on the doorframe as he felt Tony nuzzle his upper thigh and then up, along Loki’s rapidly-responding cock. He could feel the younger man smirk against him through the fabric, just before those lips parted to mouth at him.

Loki emitted a low moan despite himself at the playful eagerness, teasing enough to merit a shiver, and make him long to remove the fabric with haste, but he stared down, watching Tony glance up to meet his gaze and lick briefly at the fabric over the head of his teacher’s cock. “You can do better, pet,” Loki purred, guiding the hand on his hip down to the fastenings of his garters. “You can start by divesting me of these accoutrements as reverently as you may like.”

Tony shivered and went pliant when Loki’s other hand threaded though his hair, petting him. He leaned into it, eyes half-closed for a moment even as his fingers deftly made short work of belt and garters, before pulling down the first long black stocking slowly as he could manage without pausing, and slid it off the hook of Loki’s narrow heel. He kissed the inside of the older man’s knee and glanced up at him heatedly before giving the other stocking the same treatment, including the feather-light kiss. His hands traveled with similar appreciation back up the outside of Loki’s long legs to settle at his hips, and pull away the last article of cloth between himself and the teacher’s lower half, tossing it over his shoulder and lowering his lips to encircle the head of Loki’s cock and suck gently, tongue flicking across the head to better taste him.

He considered protesting when Loki tugged his chin up and urging him to pause in his endeavor. “There is lubricant on that nightstand, Tony my pet, and I’d like to see you prepare yourself for me, while I take time to appreciate your mouth.”

A slightly shivery noise whimpered up from Tony’s throat.

“Strip, first. All of it,” Loki commanded.

The teenager did so faster that he had ever managed before, and was rewarded by the sight of Loki shrugging out of his open shirt and letting it float to the floor carelessly as he focused on Tony’s expression with fierce interest, before leaning back against the wall beside the doorway, this time, and pointed Tony to the nightstand again, then crooked his finger back toward himself.

Silently, Tony obeyed, fetching the lubricant and walking back up to Loki, who quickly hooked an arm about his waist, pulling him in close with it, while his other hand wrapped around Tony’s own and popped open the little bottle with a flick of his thumb. Then he released his hold and held up an expectant palm.

Tilting the bottle at an only slightly-awkward angle, Tony obligingly applied some of the bottle’s contents, not looking away from Loki’s face.

“Close it,” Loki murmured.

The cap snapped shut.

“Drop it.”

Tony did.

“Slick your fingers from what is in my palm. Very good, coat them well. Keep your hand there, however, just for a few moments.” He rubbed his own fingers and palm together, spreading the remaining lube as the side of his hand brushed down the teenager’s spine, and het hen brushed two warm, gentle fingers across Tony’s hole and make the younger man shiver. “I do want to feel you, a little, so I can better imagine what you’re doing to yourself, while you’re doing it for me,” Loki purred.

Tony swore reverently, barely a whisper, that quickly died out, replaced by a moan as those two long fingers pressed into him, and almost immediately began a shallow pumping, curling up and in harder until dragging roughly over Tony’s prostate and pulling a harsh gasp from him, his whole body jerking with it.

“Good pet,” Loki murmured. “Would you like more pressure or more speed?”

“P-pressure,” Tony panted, and almost immediately emitted a guttural keen as Loki began jabbing hard over that spot in short, almost-painful thrusts, each one deep and slow, fingertips almost kneading for a moment, savoring the feel of Tony shaking with each little added prickle of friction. “Yes, that, oh fuck, _Loki_ -” He jerked hard when the teacher’s hand at his waist shifted instead to grab his ass with a firm squeeze and brought their bodies closer by dragging Tony’s hips up against his own as he squeezed.

Feeling Loki hard against him, and pushing into him, Tony clung to the taller man’s shoulder hard with his free hand, to keep himself mostly upright as he bucked his hips up against Loki’s helplessly, with a ragged moan that became a petulant growl as the slick fingers retreated from his ass, leaving him a bit empty.

“I believe I would like you to kneel for me, and let me fuck your mouth, while you spread yourself further open for me. At least three fingers. I will be merciful enough to fill you further when I am convinced your own hand cannot satisfy you any longer.”

Tony kissed him briefly, just a reverent brush of lips to the corner of the taller man’s mouth, before he once more slid down to his knees and applied his tongue to the head of Loki’s cock, this time as he spread his legs a little and replaced his lover’s fingers with his own, doing his best to reach deep, rolling his own hips a little in the effort, as he relaxed his throat and let the head of Loki’s cock slide between his lips and down. Loki’s hands on his head were firm, but not rough in guiding him, at first, pulling him down until meeting resistance at the back of the teenager’s throat and paused.

Humming deep in his throat with satisfaction, Tony pulled his head back enough to bob down deeper, catching the teacher off-guard and pulling a gasp from his throat. Bobbing again, Tony moaned outright when Loki’s fingers tightened in his hair and pulled him down to the base slowly. By the time the teenagers lips met his groin, Loki was panting little gasps of pleasure.

Adjusting to the velvet heat and obscene wet eagerness of Tony’s mouth–– _I could have sworn he was lying about having no gag reflex, I really_ ––then all rational thought cut off at the feel of Tony’s throat working him on the way slowly back up Loki’s length. He let the teenager take a breath, then pulled him back down a bit more sharply than he’d intended, but Tony only emitted another low moan, this time in time with a roll of his hips, returning some of Loki’s focus.

“Convince me, Tony,” Loki panted. “Let me take as I please here, while you attend to yourself.”

Tony wanted to whine, but did reluctantly pause showing off, relaxing, and focusing more on his own hand, sliding fingers through familiar territory. He was at three, but now twisted them, twisted and rubbed inward, deep as he could manage, making himself flustered and desperate and then-

Then Loki began fucking his mouth, slowly at first, then a bit rougher, deliberately making Tony feel it and making it harder to keep track of his breaths as his body began to tremble. His eyes watered as he struggled for more sensation and couldn’t get what he needed, so busy was Loki delivering it to his throat. Tony emitted a noise he wasn’t proud of: all desperation and pleading, making Loki’s hip’s jerk slightly with a soft sound of his own.

“You need me pet?”

Tony made the noise again, opening his eyes wide and looked up through damp lashes, and swallowing once more around the cock in his mouth.

Loki hissed, and slowly pulled out, pulling Tony’s face to rest against his thigh as the teenager panted heavily. “You’re magnificent like this: all mine, to please.” He smirked a little when Tony nuzzled at him slightly. “Ged on the bed for me, and lie on your back. I want to see your face as we break you open for me.” He felt the younger man’s hand, where it rested curled about the back of his ankle, squeeze slightly as Tony turned his head to kiss and lightly nip at Loki’s skin before letting the taller man pull him up, and back him toward the bed, which Tony flopped back on willingly, murmuring contently for a moment before Loki leaned down and kissed him firmly, slow and unhurried, and not without a bit of teeth.

It was absorbing enough for Tony to miss Loki reached up into his briefcase near the corner of the bed to pull out a condom and unwrap it for use, but he did catch the hitch in Loki’s breath as he slicked himself with a little more lube before tugging Tony’s thighs up, encouraging the younger man’s legs to wrap about his waist. Lining himself up with one hand, Loki pushed into Tony slowly, watching his lover’s face closely.

Prepared as he was, Tony still felt stretched. He had known what he was getting into, had a slightly aching jaw to prove that, and he managed to relax into the slightly burning pressure, moaning with it as he felt filled up to the point of aching deeply, but it was soothed by the heat and friction of Loki inside him, moving only a little further in, testing him. Tony emitted a choked sound and then shuddered in response.

“You’re so tight, Tony, exquisitely tight, but so ready for me. How much do you need this, pet?”

“I n-need it,” the teenager moaned. “Please.”

“How much, Tony?”

“A lot, please, so much, whatever you want to give me, take of me, Loki I need more, please move, please fuck me, please take me hard as you can, fuck me, own me, want me, please,” Tony pleaded softly, fingers scrabbling slightly, trying to tug Loki’s hips closer.

Loki pulled back slowly, making Tony shudder with the drag of it and a drawn out, low cry of loss, cutting off as the older man halted and shoved back in hard enough to shake the bed and pull a sound like a scream from Tony’s throat, and then another as Loki picked up a suddenly savage rhythm, deep and rough enough to have the younger man under him writhing and almost yowling with pleasure, body arching up against him for closer contact and more and deeper until he felt himself start to tremble and shake with it, beginning to chant Loki’s name fervently, helplessly.

“Louder,” the teacher purred against his lips.

Tony repeated his name louder then, and louder still, as Loki’s hands grabbed high on the back of his thighs and began pulling him down a little harder to meet each thrust and Tony saw stars with that slightest change in angle, hovering painfully on the edge, unable to fall and beginning to almost sob with it, pleading with Loki to give him what he needed.

“Come for me,” Loki answered, low and hoarse. “ _Now_.”

All Tony saw for a second was white, and all he heard was his own breathless voice managing to rasp out Loki’s name in a ragged shout of bliss. He could feel pangs of discomfort as Loki fucked him through it, unrelentingly dragging the younger man through a few gasp-inducing after-shocks before succumbing to his own orgasm with a few more, wilder thrusts. Then they both were floating back down, tangled up in one another, trying to remember what normal breathing felt like, and if it was worth the bother.

Tony gasped sharply as Loki pushed deeper into him once more, with a wicked grin, before pulling out, and sweeping two fingers up his lover’s come-speckled stomach and bringing them to his lips, licking them clean.

“You are so unfairly hot,” Tony groaned.

“You’re not at all bad yourself,” the teacher purred, and leaned down to kiss him again, which earned a pleased little noise from Tony, who melted under the surprisingly tender lips and tongue plying his own. “You are, in fact, fantastic.”

Tony beamed at him, only slightly abashed, and more so still when the teacher nuzzled at his neck to get him to lift his chin again and relax his neck. “Stoppit.”

“No,” Loki said, pushing his shoulder down firmly before leaning down and settling lower over his lover’s body to begin licking the come off of him little by little, until Tony was squirming and muttering about being seventeen but not actually instantly rechargeable.

“I admire the valiant effort, though, because damn.”

“And what makes you think I’m doing this for you?” Loki inquired, and licked up the last few drops.

Tony shivered. “Oh. Hnngh.”

“Unless you want me to experiment with your endurance and see precisely how long it takes for hypersensitivity to wane and renewed arousal begin, when contending with direct oral stimulation to your cock.”

The teenager’s eyes widened and he gulped audibly. “Uhm. I d-don’t know if I... can... physically endure that, Loki please––hhhhhnnnnnnnggggghh.” He gripped the bedspread hard and forced himself not to struggle, morbidly curious and stubbornly obedient as he felt, just now. The pressure and friction of Loki’s mouth licking and sucking him was too much, applied to too-sensitive places and soon Tony was almost sobbing with it. He could’ve tapped out, but it felt–– _beautifully_ wrong, and Loki was staring up at him with such rapt attention, unwavering for minutes on end until Tony could feel it like a burning brand or a benediction. It was long minutes before the throbbing ache and pained noises changed into whimpers and then finally little moans, still edged with discomfort, as he began to harden again, slowly.

He was left boneless and weak with it, by that point, wanting more but unable to reach for it. He emitted a yelp when Loki flipped him over pulled his cheeks apart just before sweeping his tongue across Tony’s entrance, tasting just a hint of himself there and making the teenager emit a high, strangled noise, then breathless, ragged moan as Loki did it again, this time swirling his tongue and slipping it inside.

Tony tried to squirm, as the hot-wet-confusing-filthy-divine sensation of Loki’s tongue sent trembling shivers up through his body, until suddenly they stopped and he heard Loki swear and another condom being unwrapped. He glanced at the clock and realized Loki’s mouth should qualify as an olympic athlete for keeping up that torment for more than a quarter of an hour. That was his last coherent thought, before Loki dragged him backward by his thighs until he was bent over the side of the bed and Loki pushed back into him all at once, easier this time and Tony arched his back and threw himself into the roll of his hips back against Loki’s, growling and writhing and alternately demanding and pleading for more.

He made an inarticulate sound when Loki’s arm about his waist trailed up ward along the middle of his chest and then wrapped firmly around his throat before pulling him up and back, the teacher’s other hand tugging one of his legs back too far to allow him to support himself, making Tony lean back against him in a way that felt more precarious than it actually was, causing the teenager to squirm and then cut off at a light, professional squeeze from Loki’s hand at his throat: pressure applied perfectly to leave no marks, as Ms. Romanoff had taught him during his first year as a teacher, one night they had gotten incredibly drunk. She had admitted the hold had recreational potential, and Loki silently blessed her twisted little blackened soul.

He let up on pressure when the time felt right and Tony gasped, trembling.

“Holy fuck, Loki...”

“You’re okay?” Loki asked firmly.

“Fuck, do that again while you fuck me, please, how is that so absurdly intense?” Tony all but whined, until Loki tightened his grip again to cut off his air and proceeded to obey: slower this time, wanting to drag it out. Only when his lover squeezed a little tighter around him, clearly about to lose it, did Loki let go again, whispering, “Now _come_ , Tony my pet.”

Tony clung to the teacher’s arm for lack of other anchor-points and  arched his back closer to Loki’s chest, moaning form hypersensitivity and coming hard all over the bed, this time followed by Loki almost immediately.

Rather than cleanup much, Loki kicked off the top blanked of the bedspread before the wet spot could sink through anything under it, and then dragged Tony under the remaining cover and sheet with him.

“You recover fast for someone eight years out of their teens,” Tony mumbled.

“I did mention a sort of dry spell. It hasn’t been from lack of desire, you see.”

“Mmmm, no complaints,” Tony assured, cuddling against his chest, relaxing bonelessly when Loki’s arms settled about his waist: the teacher on his back, with Tony using him as a full-body pillow. He almost purred when the older man began to stroke his hair, but instead dozed for a few minutes, floating in comfortable warmth.

 

~~

 

Half an hour later, Tony woke up from only slightly deeper sleep and took several long seconds to work out why his bed was moving. He first realized that not the whole thing was moving, just a section his upper body was laying on. Then he concluded that he was not actually on a bed, because most beds do not have lungs, or a heartbeat.

The heartbeat then distracted him for a while, as he just enjoyed listening to the steady beat and soft breathing. He recalled distantly that the body under his was Loki’s, and the world was a beautiful, wonderful and magical place.

“I win at life,” he muttered to himself, and nuzzled slightly at Loki’s skin.

“I was wondering when you would wake,” Loki rumbled softly.

Tony startled a little. “You’re an awesome pillow.”

“Thank you.”

They fell silent for a while, and Tony let his eyes flutter shut for a few long seconds, letting himself breathe Loki in. He sighed contently as one of the teachers’s hands stroked up and down his spine gently.

“You’re thinking awfully loud,” the teenager murmured into the quiet several long seconds later.

“Plotting, actually.”

“You said something about Obadiah earlier?” Tony recalled suddenly, raising his head and frowning. “You...” Realization dawned. “I said they wanted to sell me _Stark tech_ and you think that means they’re exposing something about Obie? Why?”

“You’re actually concerned for him,” Loki said quietly. “Tony... Tony, I’m so sorry.”

Tony’s face fell. “N-no, why would he...” His brow furrowed in incomprehension. “But he’s always...” He felt light-headed suddenly. He loved Obie like an uncle, like a mentor a little because he talked to him more kindly than Howard ever did, offered more consolation and advice over the years. The teenager felt suddenly sick as he realized, slowly, just how conspicuous that sort of was. He was Howard’s business partner, and his friend, but Howard kept an awful lot of stuff from him: everything about his place in S.H.I.E.L.D., everything about S.H.I.E.L.D.-specific weapons and programs, everything about Loki and all other spies in the field. If Obie was a trustworthy friend, why didn’t Howard trust him with that? Why had Howard always seemed to dislike the way Obie talked to his son, whenever he caught his friend offering paternal or friendly advice while touching his arm or shoulder or back in any way? What did Howard know about Obadiah, really? “W-what does Howard know?” Tony rasped suddenly.

“He does not know about this, not truly. Obadiah knows he is not fully trusted, and that there are many things hidden from him, but he also knows that Howard alive and dependent upon his business acumen to keep Stark Industries making money and spreading global influence and brokering deals while your father is occupied keeping S.H.I.E.L.D. supplied fit to keep certain wars out of public streets all over the globe, inasmuch as possible, and keep secret the sort of rare and delicate things in this world which might be in acute danger if the general public knew what they really were, and what they might mean for all mankind... Stane knows that keeping himself a vital part of Howard’s life is the best chance he has at ever getting his hands on things so valuable that Howard Stark of all people is _unwilling to advertise_ them and incorporate them into his vision of a gleaming future for all mankind.”

Tony gulped uncomfortably and nodded, feeling numbed. “He’s selling weapons to terrorist groups on the side, too. Probably to get them to try and hack dad’s secrets that he can’t get to. And they went to me.”

“Offering him,” Loki murmured. “They want you to crack open all of the secrets possible, and to distrust one of the few people above the age of twenty-one that you have ever cared for, and believed cared for you equally in turn. I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were close to him.”

“I feel sick. I thought Howard was just mad for making him feel like a bad father, or for me taking up Obadiah’s attention, when he’d get mad over him talking to me, and giving me advice or sympathy when I needed it, but like hell could I ever waste my father’s time with anything like my psychological state.” He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “Howard just doesn’t trust him. Like at all. So much shit, I just realized, is locked against him. He’s on none of the access lists. Dad really...” He shook his head. “He sucks at being protective of me, though, all things considered.”

“Like how much this is hurting you.”

“I’m fine, I’m just...” He trailed off when Loki pulled his head back down to rest on his chest and settled his arms around Tony’s back.

“You are with someone who knows precisely the sort of betrayal you are experiencing, and I will help you against him, in every way that I can,” Loki whispered.

Tony stared up into his eyes, then, warmth prickling through him: a mixture of adoration, righteous anger, and just a hint of vicious bloodthirstiness. “You have some ideas, then.”

“The beginnings of an elaborate plan, yes. Firstly, his vital position in the company is too vital. Matters need to be altered, to make certain he is no longer the top facilitator. There needs to be competition introduced, minor at first, but talented, and loyal to you for preference.

“I’d say Peggy, but she’s busy with S.H.I.E.L.D., all the time,” Tony murmured. “Also she doesn’t have the right kind of ruthless edge, you know? She’s a bit too fond of justice and golden-hearted men, if that makes sense.”

“I’ve met General Carter, yes,” Loki murmured. “You’re quite right. Obadiah wouldn’t feel threatened by someone he could fight much dirtier than, so very comfortably. We need someone more insidious...” He snapped his fingers. “Lorelei! She would love an honest contract for a nice change of pace, and if we arrange matters smartly enough within Stark Industries, she will probably embezzle enough to cover her current collection of severe debts, and then owe _us_ a favor further when we threaten to expose her!”

“She a friend of yours?” Tony inquired, amused.

“A dear old ex- of mine, from home.”

“You’re evil. I really love it,” the younger man purred, pushing up to kiss his mouth softly, just warm and appreciative. “I’ll see about getting thing in motion, over the summer, to make room for her to be hired.”

“You can arrange that?”

“I can tell you how,” Tony teased.

“Please do.”

So Tony told him.

And Loki kissed him senseless immediately after.

 

~~

 

Tony followed the plan as he laid it out for Loki.

He started a rumor in just the right part of the building, that Howard thought Obadiah might be overworked, but be too proud to ask for, or accept, any more direct assistance. Meetings just below Stane’s notice, but still very much to do with his job, began to arrange themselves. News reached Howard, from a few of his share holders, that they would like to see Obadiah share his duties with another person, ease his load, and Howard was surprised, but seized the opportunity to send out inquiries, and talent-search. As though she had been waiting for him, a force of nature calling herself Melodi Laury sauntered into Stark Industries and offered to work for him.

She was a stunning woman with coppery-auburn hair and cool slate-blue eyes, and a smile that could charm men from their senses, but she showed no interest in any pleasure with the sometimes-disreputable Howard Stark aside from what he might feel upon seeing his business flourish still more prosperously, by use of her talents.

Howard hired her on, and selected several projects he knew Obadiah had put on indefinite hold or otherwise pushed to the side in favor of more lucrative ones. He put them in Miss Laury’s hands, and asked her to make them bleed gold within a week.

Melodi did not disappoint, and by the time Obadiah even became aware of her appointment, the rest of the company, and their shareholders, were singing her praises. A loud series of arguments with Howard followed, and they rang in Stane’s ears long after: so much insistence upon long-standing rumors and feelings throughout the company that Stane had never caught so much as a whisper of.

He sent a couple of his most subtle men to carefully track the rumors as near to their source as possible, and one of them managed to procure video footage that made the older businessman shake with rage.

Tony Stark, making a rare visit to his father’s company during a school holiday (the last respectable one, before summer) idly talking about how worried he was about ‘Obie’ these days. How he was sure it had occurred to Howard too. How it was easy to see that there was too much for one man to deal with, in the position Obie occupied, and that there should be someone else sharing that workload, but that he was certain his father’s dear old friend had too much pride to accept further direct assistance. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned it down, if it was even offered, but I mean... doesn’t it seem like he needs it?”

It was insidious. It was brilliant. It was everything Howard had never seen his rebellious, fiercely independent and self-centered son capable of: subtlety and craftsmanship and passionately declared lies.

Everything Obadiah had hopes to further use the boy for, as he had in the past, when he had needed to distract Howard for a while, and had known just how to inspire young Tony to create a potentially explosive diversion. And there was only one possible reason the teenager would do this; would upset the balance of power by making it seem as though Obie were not enough, and perhaps not even vital to Stark Industries as he usually suggested that he was, to everyone, in tone and posture, every moment of every day.

The boy knew something. Possibly several somethings.

 _Such a pity_ , Obadiah thought. Tony’s designs were finally starting to exceed Howard’s in complexity, making leaps that the elder Stark never could, in his pursuit of innovation. It would be tragic, losing that potential money-maker, but it was a loss that Stane felt he could afford, in order to regain his lost power and possibly increase it. Howard himself would be grief-stricken more than most would think, but Obadiah had been dripping extra poison into that relationship between parent and child for years now, and knew just how much they damaged each other.

He knew how shattered Howard would be, how blind.

Perfect, for Obadiah to sabotage Melodi Laury’s career and make himself still more vital to Stark Industries, with their leader so compromised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to add that "the 007 equivalent of Blackadder" is not only an extremely accurate assessment of Loki in this story (somewhat on accident) but it's also that is a sitcom I would watch the hell out of. In case anyone who happens to read this could make something like that happen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's past is full of holes. Tony loves puzzled. Magicians are all assholes, really.

After the first weekend spent primarily in a hotel room getting intimately familiar with every inch of Mr. Loki Laufeyson’s body, Tony spent most of the next school week on cloud nine. In their first class of the day, when he floated into his desk next to Rhodey’s, his friend had taken one look at him, taken on a stricken expression and said with bone-deep conviction, “I don’t want to know any details.”

“Rhodey?”

“Yes?” he sighed.

“He makes me really happy.”

James looked at him appraisingly for a few long moments, skeptical, but not meanly suspicious. After several seconds, his expression relaxed into something like bemused acceptance, with a hint of concern suggesting he’d still be keeping a close eye on his old friend’s emotional state for the next month or so, to be more certain of that, but not that he’d go on an actual witch-hunt. “Okay. As long as you’re not hurt...”

Tony shook his head. “Not in any ways I didn’t beg for of my own accord.”

“God, Tony, I said no details!”

“I didn’t mention any of the things in particular. It’s still pretty vague.”

“Still did not need to know that.”

“Actually, you sort of do, because I like, uhm... I ask him for things that require a lot of mutual trust, and might leave marks, or I might be a bit sore, but these are things I want. I’m not pressured into anything; I get what I want, and nothing I don’t, and I want to assure you that if that _ever_ changes, you’ll know because I’ll call you asking you to help me hide a body, but I’m also 99.9% sure he would never do that to me. So. Sorry if it came with any mental images you didn’t need, but it’s kind of important for me to be sure that you don’t misinterpret anything like that. Okay?”

Reluctantly, Rhodey nodded. “I get it, even though I don’t exactly, uh _get it_ in the sense of understanding the appeal of that to you, but I know what you don’t want me getting the wrong ideas about. As long as it’s what you want.”

“It really is. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for how you are, man.”

“Well, but sort of making you deal with this, I know is-”

“Dude, I’m just glad I didn’t find out by you having to explain the exact causes behind different bruising patterns, or finding suspicious leather straps anywhere, or anything. This could’ve gone down way worse, inevitably, if you didn’t just tell me. So hey, another part of you is a bit unusual. I’m not even that shocked, really, and I guess... well, I actually trust _this guy’s_ control more than that scary girl you had regular flings with last year, who always wore leather riding boots.”

Tony sniggered. “She’s actually a pretty good Dom, but yeah, she doesn’t have the same restraint and is more aggressive.”

Rhodey shook his head slowly. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“He’s nothing but good, to me,” his friend murmured. “I feel more human than I have in a long time, actually. More calm.”

“Okay. I’m glad.”

 

~~

 

The next weekend, Tony was actually taken home by his father. He was expected to make an appearance at an event on Memorial Day, along with his father. He was deeply displeased by the whole visit, but took the time to begin his plans around a few particular water-coolers at Stark Industries. It was a productive weekend, but one that left him frustrated and bleak-feeling and tense by the time he was returned to school.

He made his way out to smoke a joint late that night, when sleep proved all too elusive. He wasn’t surprised to find Loki in their spot, smoking his slightly ridiculous ivory pipe, exhaling what was, by the aroma, distinctly not tobacco.

“Hey,” Tony greeted.

Loki’s brow furrowed at the sight of his grim expression. “Unpleasant, was it?”

“Always.” He strode over to lean against the wall beside the taller man, lighting up behind one curved hand.

They both stared skyward in silence for a few long moments, trying very hard not to touch one another. Tony gave in only a little, letting himself slide sideways slowly until the side of his head leaned against Loki’s shoulder.

The teacher looked like he didn’t want to protest, but thought perhaps he should.

“Just this. I need just this,” Tony murmured.

“I want to offer you more.”

“I know. I can feel that, this way, as much as see it. That’s why I need this.”

Loki nodded, and turned his head to just briefly kiss the younger man’s brow.

After several minutes in comfortable silence, Tony said, “Plans in motion, by the way. Give it a couple weeks, and the board will probably have my dad looking for a new hire or two, but not very overtly. He’ll know that he has to be subtle, to actually do anything without alerting Obie, and he’ll accept this as the opportunity it is.”

“Good,” Loki sighed. “Very good.” His head tilted down, not quite hesitant, as though he couldn’t help it, he rested his cheek against his lover’s hair, just enough to feel the prickle against his skin and a tangibly content sigh from Tony in response. Just enough closeness to share a little warmth, and considerable comfort.

“What was your first concert?” Tony asked abruptly.

Loki blinked a bit. “Pardon?”

“I’m curious. First concert.”

The teacher seemed to struggle for a long moment, then shake his head. “I don’t know,” he said quietly.

Tony blinked. “Uh, you mean you don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember and I also don’t know. I...” His brow furrowed. “You didn’t find any medical records of mine, in your cyberstalking?” He sounded hesitant.

“No. Not any. I’d thought that was a bit odd. I mean, I couldn’t even find dental records, and those are a disconcertingly high-priority thing for S.H.I.E.L.D., with most people it takes on as consultants like you, in their mercenary sort of way.”

Loki exhaled a long breath of relief and dipped a hand into the inner breast pocket of his coat, pulling out a metal case that flicked open with a tug of his thumb in the right place. With the contents of the case, he tapped-out and then began to refill his pipe. “I hadn’t been sure that worked,” he murmured. “Good to know.”

“So what am I missing?”

The teacher hesitated. “I was found wandering the woods just outside Bergen, Norway six years ago. I couldn’t remember who I was at all. Several detectives worked together to discover my past while I seemed to linger in a nearly-catatonic state. I could understand and obey basic instructions and care for myself, but I could not speak, or hold eye contact with anyone. I remained like that for about a month, until the detectives began to share their information with me, and I remembered that I could read. I pieced together the man they had mapped out for me, his history and his resources and all. I got impressions and flashes of memory, but they aren’t vivid. I recall stories of events, that I never recall hearing anyone tell me, but I don’t remember the events themselves. Some things, basic ‘about you’ sort of questions I somehow remember the answers to, I can recall easily, but others... I don’t know. I genuinely don’t. Not even a bit.”

Tony sat up and stared at him. “What caused it?”

“I had a severe head injury, and psychologists at the time diagnosed my state as that of a trauma-induced fugue. The specific trauma was never diagnosed and I have no memory of it, or of being brought out of the woods and into any facilities. My first clear, physical memory is of being handed a folder full of papers, which I opened, and recalled how to read, and my name, and nothing else.” He took a deep breath through his nose and let it out. “In truth, I don’t even remember what was so important about changing it to Laufeyson, later. I could never find out where that name came from, only that it was somehow mine, and Odin had no further claim on me.”

“You didn’t reach out to your family? To at least bring some memories back?” Tony asked, a bit baffled.

“I couldn’t find them. According to anyone I spoke to, they had moved to one of four different possible other towns, none of which bore any trace of them. Their fates exist only in documentation provided to me by the local police,” Loki murmured.

“You think it’s suspect?”

“There’s a reason I don’t entirely trust myself, Tony. I don’t fully recall who I’ve been, or what caused me to ever forget so much. As well as reading, driving automobiles, and other basic skills, I have some more specialized capabilities that do not quite match my record: skills that have harmed people when triggered on accident, usually only to save my own or someone else’s life, but let’s just say that my degree of skill at knife-throwing is a bit... disconcertingly keen, given I’ve never actually practiced it, that I can recall, and there’s nothing of it mentioned anywhere in what documentation exists.”

“You should show me, sometime.”

“Maybe,” Loki mused.

“What do you remember about them? Your family?”

Loki considered. “My mother was the only one who saw me truly, I think. She understood those things about me which others disparaged, and taught me how to use them to my advantage. She was tall and only as truly gentle as she wanted to be underestimated, except with those she loved. To us, she offered only love.” He lit and took a pull from his pipe, holding it in for a few seconds before continuing, post-exhale, “My older brother, I recall being something of an oaf. Tall and golden and admired for his embodiment of the highly muscular male heroic ideal so popular among other Aesir folk like ourselves that it’s honestly a bit ridiculous. He couldn’t tell a believable lie to save his life, and he always trusted me when I wanted him to, regardless of whether or not he truly should have.”

“Popular among who?”

“Other younger folk, like ourselves.”

“Right,” Tony said, not sure he’d heard correctly either time. “And your father?”

“Lied to me, for most of my life, and far too long,” the teacher murmured. “He had intended to make use of me, as diplomatic leverage of a sort, based on my true heritage, though I cannot say how, and I was enraged by him, but also shattered at heart by disappointment in him, and myself. I... sought to prove myself and did something I regret deeply, and makes me feel afraid to even try to recall, and... then I was handed a folder, and I was remembering how to read. That is... that is all I have.”

Tony nodded slightly. “So you’re trying to hunt down that info. That’s the other reason for all the warfare stuff.”

“The first reason being?”

“I’m guessing a few of the terrorist groups after you are ones who tried to offer you information about yourself in exchange for some of your computer-related skills, and then failed to deliver and possibly tried to kill you?” the student inquired.

Loki snorted. “Good catch.”

“It only makes sense. I kind of wondered how they wound up enemies more than the likes of S.H.I.E.L.D., given you and authority clearly don’t get along, and it’s a long-standing grudge.”

“Very true.”

“What happened in the first year?”

Loki winced. “One of my first leads in the search for my kin. She... I thought we were rather closer than we actually were. She used me for some gain that I am still not certain of, and vanished the same way as everyone else who has ever claimed any connection to my life before six years ago.”

“Creepy shit, man.”

“Yes. Deeply. You can understand why people generally distrust me more, the longer they know me, and the more they understand of where I truly come from?”

“Yeah.” Tony let his eyes fall shut, finishing the last of his joint and considering for a few long seconds. “I still trust you.”

“How?” Loki croaked, genuinely pained.

“Because you think about a future with me, and dare to hope for it to be real, even despite not being 100% certain of what’s actually in your past,” the younger man said softly. “I think that says a lot about how good for me, and to me, you really want to be, and I feel safe, with you. I’ve had... experiences enough where I had to know when someone I cared about might hurt me unexpectedly, and I’ve never felt that from you. And I’ve seen how afraid you are of hurting me, how gentle you prefer to be until I ask for more and you have permission to let that go, like you’d forgotten you were holding that back in the first place.” He shot his lover a quick glance and smiled in a manner somehow both shy and sly. “I think you value me above yourself more than you should, but persuading you of that is clearly going to take time.”

Inhaling sharply, Loki nuzzled at him lightly where they touched. “Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary. It’s just... how I sort of love you,” he said quietly.

Loki gave in to impulse, since his words fled him, and kissed the teenaged briefly, then, enough to hopefully convey both affection and faint panic, while denying anything like fear or disapproval. He couldn’t dare speak it yet, could barely think about it with hope yet, still waiting for chaos to ensue as he was.

But Loki knew himself, and he knew he was not fallen in love yet, but he had clearly tripped and was certainly beginning the falling process with something like incredulous enthusiasm.

The kiss was chaste, but no less intense for it, when they pulled apart.

“This is gonna be such a long week, isn’t it?” Tony groaned.

Loki smirked at him fondly. “Yes, it certainly will.”

“Hey, Loki?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for not panicking when I said that.”

The teacher chuckled softly. “I’ll catch up eventually, I promise.”

“Do you?” Tony sounded almost confused.

“It’s taking time to adjust to the idea that I might even be allowed.”

The teenager elbowed him playfully. “You’re so allowed. Encouraged, even.”

“Yes, but I must point out the value of advice from madmen is not generally considered reliable by most sane people.”

“I have never assumed you to be remotely sane, or we wouldn’t get along half so well,” Tony shot back.

“Very true,” Loki conceded. “Clearly, as a madman, I should accept the encouragement as sound advice.”

“Absolutely,” Tony said, with enthusiasm.

Loki shook his head at him with a snigger.

“Next time, then.”

“Maybe so,” Loki said, with more sincerity than either of them dared think overmuch about.

A long, not-uncomfortable silence followed.

“So, what’s your craziest theory about where you come from, then?”

“That I’m a Norse god of chaos and mischief being punished for the murder of the god of light and happiness, or something,” the teacher deadpanned.

Tony snorted. “Seriously?”

“Well, how apt would you consider, for me, the nickname ‘Silver-tongue’?”

Clearing his throat, the younger man admitted, “Well.. yeah, alright.”

Loki chuckled softly.

The silence returned, comfortable and close for several long minutes.

“Thank you, also, for not panicking. I’m actually surprised how calm you are, all things considered,” Loki murmured.

“It... I’ve beens studying you long enough that it actually explains a lot, fits into some of the places there were still missing data. Now I just know why so much is missing and it’s sort of a relief. You’re pretty stable for someone with an enigmatic and disconcertingly vague idea of your own past,” the younger man expounded.

“It’s strange, but... one thing I’ve been sure of, since I regained self-awareness, is precisely who I am. My past is almost incidental. It does not matter as much as survival, defiance, and having an impact upon the world in what ways I am capable. I want to know my past, but I also very nearly don’t. I’ve seen enough of who I once was to question whether losing him was a curse, or an opportunity. I will choose to take advantage of my strengths rather than dwell on losses I cannot repair at the moment. My only concern is past enemies I might have made, and keeping under their radar.”

“Good plan,” Tony admitted. “I’m kind of selfishly glad that the whole mess brought you here, where I got to meet you.”

“You are the most astonishing person to have ever entered my life,” the teacher said. “I want to keep you, despite my reservations.”

“That’ll do, for now, yeah,” Tony said quietly. “If you’re still working up to the l-word thing, that’s definitely a good enough start.”

“Is it?”

“I’m stubborn, persuasive, and cocky. I’m not worried, yet.”

Loki chuckled, but didn’t disagree with him in the least. They parted ways not long after, however reluctantly, when the hour was far too late.

 

~~

 

Later that week, after Tony had finished snooping on security footage from Howard’s office of Lorelei’s interview, and admiring her ability to dodge any and all attempts by anyone in the office (including Howard, but only the once before he got the message and immediately began to treat her with the same respect that he treated General Carter) to objectify her with fierce and matter-of-fact graces, a program he had put into place on Sunday night finally found something.

He had set it to quietly crack into sections of Howard’s systems that he had previously considered to be too much trouble to get into, when other areas had simply been more forthcoming with information he’d considered pertinent.

Now he was whistling at just how much information his father regularly stole, categorized and collected about numerous private individuals around the world, civilian, military and politicians alike.

There was, as he had begun to suspect, a few more morsels of information about Loki to be found there, but most of the files which seemed to be about his medical history were badly corrupted, and he couldn’t repair them. He did find the last known location of the original documents (gone missing four and a half years ago) and in doing so one of the phrases describing the physical appearance of them stood out.

 _Paper, ink and ink-application methods all of untraceable/unknown origin. No comparable anomalies found yet to date_.

Tony shivered a little, and started to really wonder.

 

~~

 

“So you have the original documents, all your medical records and things?” Tony asked casually, during his detention that day. He was still, after all, attending them every weekday until the end of the year.

Loki raised an eyebrow slowly. “Yes. Why?”

“Because neither S.H.I.E.L.D. nor my dad could figure out how they were printed. Apparently, not by any available machinery known of at the time that was anywhere else in their considerable catalog. By the way, how did you corrupt data files you couldn’t even properly reach? Even I couldn’t get into that section of Howard’s systems without a few days of concerted effort and multiple intelligent cracking programs.”

The teacher smirked secretively. “I might tell you one day, should the need ever arise again.” Then his eyes narrowed. “When was that notation made?”

“It was made based on photographs and a lot of scans of the documents themselves, which survived in their systems a few years after you stole the originals,” Tony explained. “It wasn’t due to their tech being unable to make any comparisons, and they had a few experts study non-specific sections of the document, to try to work out how that had been done, but the couldn’t work it out. The specifics of why that was got scrambled by your file-corruption magic-trick, though.” He cleared his throat. “Would you let me study one of them?”

Loki considered the matter seriously. “One of them, but one which is of great interest to me.”

“I won’t damage it, but I might have to cut away a narrow bit of the paper...”

“It’s half-burnt anyway, according to records, due to a small house-fire,” Loki said.  “That’s the story, but there was always something off about it to me: which parts remained legible and which did not, the way the edges burned and the areas where ink was exposed to high heat...” He shook his head. “I haven’t the facilities to undertake a proper study of it, and few people with such facilities are what I would consider trustworthy.”

“How about we make a field trip next Sunday, just for an afternoon, and we take it to someone with something better than lab facilities who owes me a big favor?” Tony offered, grinning madly. “He’s found things that are off the grid, where science is concerned, or where historical and digital records fall short of complete, which might be important in this case.”

Loki’s eyebrows raised. “Who?”

“His name, and now don’t laugh, is Dr. Stephen Strange.”

The teacher’s lips twitched. “Go on.”

“He’s also a freelance consultant with S.H.I.E.L.D., you see.”

“‘Freelance’ with S.H.I.E.L.D. never usually means what one might think it should mean,” Loki said flatly. “I speak from years of experience.”

“Yeah, three. I’ve known Strange since I was a kid. He and my dad don’t actually get along, and he wouldn’t even come around the house if Obadiah was around. He liked me okay, though. He had a soft spot for kids, then, but that advantage wears off after about age twelve. I’ve done him a few important favors, though, to keep him as free of S.H.I.E.L.D. watchdogs and punitive measures as he’s been, all that time. The really hilarious bit is that S.H.I.E.L.D. lists him as their ‘occult consultant’ I shit you not.”

“Occult?” Loki asked.

“One of many reasons he drives my old man crazy, yeah. He’s a bit eccentric and has a thing for victorian neo-gothic that I many never understand, as well as a slightly absurd mustache, but he’s surprisingly expert in weird and inexplicable shit, and I’ve got a fair amount of blackmail material against him if anything goes awry.”

Loki considered. “I might concede letting him examine more than one document, then, and I’ll bring you the first one for your own perusal and study tomorrow.”

Tony beamed. “Awesome.”

 

~~

 

Weekdays had become Tony Stark’s daily restraint-endurance trials for most of his waking hours. There were many things he wanted to be doing, and all of them involved touching Loki or being near him, but their regular routines as well as the never-on-school-grounds clause in their relationship made that almost impossible.

Pepper was starting to get annoyed with him.

“I don’t get it, Tony,” she finally snapped, the Thursday after Memorial Day. “Last week, you were a bundle of pleased contentment and then sort of full of dread on Friday, and yes I get that you had to deal with your dad over a long weekend, but I do not understand what has been up with these past two days. You’re spaced out more than usual, you can’t even pretend sitting still is a thing you sometimes do, and you’re tetchy to people you usually have some iota of respect for! What is it with you?”

Tony very deliberately didn’t raise his head from where it rested on his arm. He was really, really hoping she might actually give up. It was a vain hope.

“Tony, you’re not getting out of this by pretending you’ve fallen asleep.”

“... Rain check?” he pleaded.

“No. Explain.”

“I’m making a slightly ridiculous series of questionable life choices and as a result I’m very sexually frustrated,” Tony sighed.

Pepper looked alarmed, then shot Rhodey a knowing, expectant glare.

“Boyfriend. Not socially acceptable, possibly a bit illegal,” was all the other teenage boy would admit that he knew.

“What?!” she all but shrieked.

“It was my idea!” Tony rattled off, rapid-fire, “And he didn’t want to, initially, but I sort of persuaded him, and I’m sort of in love with him, Pepper, please don’t kill anyone!”

She stared at him with her mouth hanging open for several seconds. “ _What?!_ ”

“Not the best tactical approach,” Rhodey criticized.

“You’re not helping,” Tony countered.

“Anthony Howard Stark, what the hell are you doing?” Pepper asked, thankfully in an enraged but still-significantly-hushed whisper.

Equally hushed, yet somehow still a little frenetic, Tony expounded, “Look, okay so I’m in love with an older man who is gorgeous and thinks I’m brilliant and understands the problems I have with dad, and helped me get over our romantic life falling apart without even looking at me as a possible sexual interest, which in fact wasn’t a thing until I confessed how distracting I find everything about him to be from his  wit to his sarcasm to his eyes to his ass to his hand-gestures and endlessly long legs, and his insane personal history, and sort of persuaded him to look at me differently and let me in, kind of. He’s done right by me, okay?”

Pepper rubbed her temples. “Do I know this man?” she sighed.

“Yes,” Tony admitted reluctantly.

“If I figure out who it is before the end of the school year, I will report him,” she promised. “Unless you decide to tell me who it is, and I decide differently based on how much I feel like he deserves to die at the time.”

“I’m flattered and slightly horrified,” Tony responded.

“I’m kind of impressed you’re alive, Tony,” Rhodey mused.

“You know who it is?” Pepper demanded. “And he persuaded you not to report?”

Rhodey nodded reluctantly.

“Maybe I’ll just maim him,” she murmured.

Tony widened his eyes and tried to look as pathetic as possible. “Please don’t. I really like all of his limbs and haven’t managed to map every inch of his skin with my tongue quite yet!”

Pepper shot him an incredulous and slightly worried look. “You really _like_ him.”

Her friend and ex-boyfriend nodded. “Yeah. I do. Hence the ‘I’m in love with’ part of it and how I actually kind of mean that.”

She gaped at him a little.

He shrugged helplessly. “He’s... a perfect storm of hot body, high-intellect, and unique crazy to sort of wholly captivate me and he’s the best Dom I’ve ever had, hands-down, no competition is there. No offense.”

“I was already aware I was only #2 on that list before now, but am I still top of the list for most mind-numbing orgasm?”

Tony shot her an apologetic look.

Pepper wolf-whistled loudly enough people around them were deeply startled.

“I didn’t need to know any of that,” Rhodey lamented.

“How’d he manage that?” she asked.

“I don’t think Rhodey wants to know,” Tony stage-whispered.

“Rhodey, cover thy delicate ears lest the smut scorch thine soul,” Pepper intoned.

“I don’t want to talk about it, really, I don’t!” Tony insisted, sighing when she pouted at him. He cupped a hand to her ear and whispered about the endurance trial and the rimming and the rest that followed.

When he pulled away, he sniggered upon realizing his friend was blushing from the top of her head to her shoulders and down her arms, suddenly.

“See, that’s why I don’t ask these questions,” Rhodey chided her. “Without the ladyboner. Or indeed anything even remotely resembling a state of arousal. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Please stop,” Pepper growled.

“It was sooo good though,” Tony sighed longingly. “And it’s still all of tomorrow and half the next day before I get to do anything like that again and that was almost two weeks ago and I have to see that sweet ass every day and not bite it! This is torture!”

“You brought this upon yourself,” Rhodey reminded.

“I regret nothing!” Tony insisted. “I just really want to be able to touch him more frequently, because good things like that happening more often is always positive!”

“So... it’s just sex?” Pepper asked.

With hesitation, the inventor raised his head and peered up at her.

Her expression fell open in shock. “Oh my god, were you like this about _me_?”

“Yep,” Rhodey sighed.

Tony tried to burrow his head into his folded arms on the lunch table, but Pepper was having none of it and shoved his shoulder suddenly to expose a bit of his face.

“Are you insane, Tony?”

“Jury’s out?” he offered meekly. “What’s really so bad about it except that the fact it looks really bad due to the age gap so we have to play PR carefully, in the long run, and never ever, ever-ever-ever tell the press when we actually started attempting a romantic relationship thing? Also lots of secrecy for a couple of years? Presuming I can keep him around, which I’m trying to stay optimistic about.”

“You’re afraid he’d leave?” she asked.

“More sort of disappear or something because he’s sort of got a rare and highly valuable skill set,” Tony said flatly. “So, you know, he’s at a slightly higher assassination-risk than me or my dad, mostly due to not having bodyguards or anything.”

“You don’t have bodyguards,” Pepper said flatly.

“This school is one of the most secure in the country,” Tony reminded her lightly.

“True,” she admitted. “So... working here would make him safer?”

“If only he did,” Tony sighed.

Rhodey smirked a little at the ‘cut the bullshit’ look the redhead shot him at that.

“What?”

“You said you see him daily. You don’t get off campus daily. Therefore, he’s on staff. Odds of me narrowing it down to teachers you have, and then-”

“Pep, please, please don’t,” Tony pleaded. “Just–––trust me on this. Don’t dig deeper into this, don’t try to get him thrown out or arrested, or you’ll bring legal scrutiny to him that will make him a big shiny target to a bunch of very bad people he’s currently working to keep people safe from, on contract (sort of) with an international task force, who helped him get the job here in the first place. I’m not joking, you could get him killed, and he’s not the only faculty member in our school with that kind of history, so it would also make other people targets once they got noticed, too. There’s at least three, and they’re good people, and this is the most inconspicuous career option all of them have, which still lets them spend most of their time in a relatively safe and obscure place their enemies would never think to search for them in.”

“Because what sort of good guys surround themselves with innocent kids?” Rhodey intoned quietly.

Tony winced. “The kind who are good at keeping who they are secret, and all violent conflicts away from their daily work-life.”

“He has a point, Tony, if they’re as dangerous and under as much heat as you’re suggesting,” Pepper mused. “Also, you sound like you’ve gone crazy.”

“Well, I’ve _been_ crazy.”

“Not government-conspiracies and secret-identities crazy,” she emphasized.

“I’ve got heaps of clear evidence that my dad has reached all the same conclusions and is actually a founding member of that international task force I mentioned, so really I feel pretty secure on this front,” Tony riposted dryly.

Pepper’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Yeah, I’m not just going off the word of an extremely attractive man. I did all my research and then some before even asking him anything directly,” he assured her.

“He cyber-stalked him to an epic degree,” Rhodey translated casually.

Tony winced. “My information sources, while technically not legal for me to access and casually peruse, are legit, though.”

“Tony, you really sound like you’re in over your head,” Pepper said.

“I’m kind of not, actually. Doing all that research before... getting in any way involved with things? It all leads back to Stark Industries,” Tony murmured. “It’s all shit I’d have to deal with eventually anyway, and now as a bonus, I’ve got a smoking-hot veteran of this particular war-front who wants to protect me and we really compliment each other, strategically and insofar as our skills and connections, and our wits, and did I mention he’s absolutely brilliant in bed?”

“Okay,” Pepper huffed. “Fine, but we’re discussing all of this in more detail over some whiskey tonight.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Tony conceded. “Except who he is, and all.”

She scoffed. “Right.”

 

~~

 

Dr. Strange, it seemed, was busy.

“What do you mean you don’t know where you’ll be for the next two months?”

“I could try to explain it to you, but you won’t like it. Look, I won’t be on the physical plane for more than a few hours at a time, during this hunt. I have to find the source of the powers that keep summoning these demonic figures throughout Hong Kong, because they seem to be trying to harm people just because I conversed with them. I really lack the time, Anthony Stark, for probing the origins of some amnesiac’s personal paperwork, no matter how mysteriously inked.”

“July, then. Make time, Strange, seriously. You _know_ you owe me.”

“I do indeed, and much do I regret handing you any sort of blank check for such a matter, yes. I will schedule time with you as soon as I know where I stand on this demonic activity around here.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“I am sorry.”

“You’re right that saving the world is sort of important. Don’t die.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. Same to you; by the sound of it, you need all of the luck you can get.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Tony sighed.

 

~~

 

The document Loki entrusted to him was his birth certificate.

He was right about the fire-damage being almost suspiciously selective; and yet this was supposedly the only copy to have escaped a house-fire mostly intact. There was no trace of parent names, hospital of origin, birth weight, doctors or nurses involved: just the bare bones of date, time, and governmental identification. Loki’s suggestion that he was adopted was difficult to trace, as well. That paperwork was supposedly lost to the fire as well, along with any potential leads on information about how they adopted him, whether through a particular adoption service  or other legal means. There was truly nothing about Loki Odinson’s origins, beyond these incomplete relics. The Odinson family had been from a small town, according to all Norwegian government records Loki had been able to hack, and S.H.I.E.L.D. and Howard Stark hadn’t had much luck in finding their information either.

Tony had little luck in the search, either. It was like everyone connected to Loki and the company known as AES incorporated, owned by the Odinson family, had quietly slipped into obscurity and out of existence entirely just two or three years before Loki was found in the woods and investigations into his origins were made.

Of course, if the government had either taken part openly in a cover-up and manufacture of a false identity for Loki, that would be one explanation. The other would be that the government had been conned too, by an exceptionally clever organized crime family conducting some sort of exceptionally brilliant fraud related to AES incorporated, but the math there didn’t entirely add up, either.

If a cover-up it was, the job was an admirably seamless one.

Something bothered Tony about the birth certificate, though, just looking at it.

Something about the ink didn’t look right, particularly near the burnt edges.

A couple of hours of extensive research, and Tony had a long list of different inks commonly in use in Norwegian hospitals between twenty-nine and twenty-six years ago. The list was exhaustive, so he began to group it by composition: what each ink was made out of. He narrowed it down to a dozen key ingredients and others commonly included with them which would determine how each ink would react slightly differently to exposure to fire: how legible the remaining ink should be, whether the fire would cause color-change and if so to what severity. It took him half a week to work all of it out and determine one thing: no pen- or printer-ink in production from the last thirty years had been used for Loki’s birth certificate.

Taking longer, closer looks at the paper itself, the inking was far too exact, as well. Inkjet printers couldn’t manage staining so exacting, with no bleed, nothing.

It was as though the darker parts of the paper that happened to form words had just been made out of darker fibers. A couple of careful scrape-tests from one of the few border-lines on the paper confirmed, to Tony’s utter confusion, that the paper itself had been altered, not dyed or inked but like the individual fibers had changed pigmentation of their own accord, at a cellular level. The pigments appeared as natural as tree-rings under an electron microscope, and furthermore there were no chemical residues in the paper suggesting it had been industrially manufactured, which was ridiculous. All paper so pale generally had to be bleached or otherwise have color taken out of it, but this...

A couple scrapings of the ink confirmed: there was actually no ink. It was just paper with slightly more natural pigment than the paler bits around it.

This made zero sense, scientifically speaking.

He returned the paper to Loki and explained his findings, that Friday in detention. “It’s basically like the paper itself was grown organically and then dried and further smoothed and flattened by a process that left behind no more trace than sunlight-exposure would. It’s sort of impossible.”

“Grown?” Loki raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I know all previous notes probably went on about carbon-residue from the fire, and the ink being a bit weird, but I don’t think they put the thing under an electron microscope. I sent it home briefly to have Jarvis scan it and send me the results over an encrypted channel, and then send me the document back. No ink has edges that _clean_ down to a cellular level. Paper is supposed to be a chaotic mess of wood pulp pressed into a thin sheet, but that paper? It’s like someone manipulated a tree into weaving its fibers perfectly into shape, like a bio-hack, and the darker places where inked words are is actually just the same fibers with more pigmentation, which happened to be almost entirely absent from the rest of the fibers, like it was programmed to grow that way, which is of course not only absurd but impossible.”

“So why are you convinced of it?” the teacher inquired.

“Because I know a guy who can summon rolls of paper out of thin air, and I examined one of them before, also under that microscope,” Tony said blandly. “He actually used ink, but the weird unnaturally-perfect grain of interwoven fibers? Different patterns of weaving, same technique, same eerie uniformity. I gave him a call, but apparently he has business outside the plane of physical existence for up to a couple of months. Well, he estimated it would feel like six months to him because of dream-logic, but he estimated a bit over eight weeks.”

“Nine weeks, five days,” Loki said, as though it were obvious.

The younger man blinked at him. “What?”

“The conversion of prolonged time for anyone mostly human to spend in any conventional regions of the astral plane _would_ be closer to eight weeks, but if he’s really expecting it to feel closer to six months, that suggests a journey or quest solution to a variety of complex puzzle, which would prolong his time by approximately thirteen days further,” Loki rattled off, as though is seemed clear as day to him.

“Where do you even learn shit like that?”

The teacher thought about it, then hesitated. “I don’t actually know.”

“But you’re certain.”

“Quite.”

Tony folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head. “You think you might be under some sort of curse or something?”

“I must admit I’ve not run into much ‘magic’ in the past several years,” Loki said, sounding deeply skeptical.

“Arthur C. Clarke, man, come on.”

“Pardon?”

“Any sufficiently advanced form of science is indistinguishable from magic, or whatever, I’m paraphrasing.”

Loki’s eyes seemed very distant for a moment. “One and the same.”

“Yeah. You okay?”

“Just a headache coming on, I think. It happens, at times, particularly after memory strain.”

“I could offer my services as a masseur.”

Loki shook his head with a playful smirk. “Not tonight.”

Tony sighed. “Damn.”

“It doesn’t help, to have further complications I do not understand,” the teacher said slowly. “I know nothing about magic. I wouldn’t even know what old connections of mine to exploit. It’s a dead end, for me.”

“Good thing I have a couple connections, then. Doc Strange is the most coherent, though. I’m not asking that Liverpudlian asshole for anything, if I can help it. I don’t care if he _is_ in New York, lately.” He frowned a little. “Though he does usually need money, and money is pretty easy...”

“Where is this going?” Loki asked. “And ‘Liverpudlian’?”

“Well, his accent is from Liverpool, but honestly, the bastard himself is pure London. I met him on accident over summer vacation, when I sort of got lost in the East End trying to avoid going back to the hotel my dad was staying in. Some weird shit went down, he sort of saved my life and swore at me a lot, there was a lot of running around from bloodthirsty things, I had to pay off a crime boss not to murder him, his friend’s cab got totaled and I sort of paid for a newer one, and he found out, and told me he hates owing debts like that, and left me his card. He’s the blue-collar equivalent of Dr. Strange without the epic title. He’s also kind of a punk, but like, an aged punk, so more sort of a stubborn and manipulative jackass. I wouldn’t trust him near any valuable paperwork, but if you like, I can ask about a general consult.”

Loki considered. “Actually, this man sounds vaguely familiar.”

 

~~

 

After a particularly enjoyable Saturday evening and night, and a lazy, unhurried Sunday morning, Tony Stark and Mr. Loki Laufeyson made their ways, by separate routes and through entrances on different sides of the building, into a discreet pub in the middle of a neighborhood that was not exactly over-burdened with wealth and prosperity. Tony wore a red hoodie, jeans, and a disinterested look, and nobody gave him a second glance after he flashed his fake ID and approached a table half-hidden around a corner, and a couple of potted plants that didn’t usually reside there, but given John was on good terms with the pub staff, they had probably made an exception.

Tony approached with two pints of beer and sat down opposite the tall blond man lounging in the chair nearest to the absurdly-healthy ficus which obscured them from the view of most people in the back of the pub.

“Didn’t think you’d ever call in yours, mate,” John greeted. “Jesus cock-loving Christ, I forgot you’re still a kid.”

“It’s only been two years, dude. I saved your ass when I was just fifteen,” he reminded the older man, with a cheeky grin.

“And now you have yourself a paranormal puzzle and no other handy magicians around?” the Englishman inquired lightly.

“Pretty much.”

John tense a bit, looking around the room suddenly, like a hare suddenly catching the faintest hint of a fox’s scent, but unable to tell the direction it came from “Hang on, a minute. Something’s up.”

“Good afternoon,” Loki said, from about a foot behind him.

John Constantine almost jumped out of his skin, and barely kept his chair from flying backwards as he swore at great length and spun around to glare at whatever bastard thought he might be so damned clever, only to hesitate. He frowned, and tilted his head, and squinted. “Okay, for the record, I have precautions for being knifed in the back and it took me way too long to perfect them, given just how often that sort of thing happens to me, and somehow you didn’t trip anything. I know a lot about the inhuman, too, but I dunno what you are beyond suspecting that human isn't all you are. So, I’m now deeply suspicious and half of a mind to flee because so far we have no quarrel, but my past history informs me that A) that won’t last, and B) you’re not the sort of fucker I want to mess with if I don’t have to, and furthermore me doing so would cost more than he owes me to dissuade if you’re here to kill him or whatever.” He pointed over his shoulder at Tony. “And whatever you are doing to intensify my awareness of synchronicity to such an extent as I haven’t felt since an incident in Ravescar where I thought I’d removed the leftover bits of Laughing Magician that gave me the knack for it in the first place, can you stop? It’s actually giving me a bit of a headache.”

“I’m not here to kill anyone, and as far as I’m aware, I’m perfectly human. Also, I have no idea what you mean by synchronicity-awareness.”

John considered. “Ah. Great.” He made a face. _These sorts of cases are always the tricky ones, of course._

“John, meet Loki Laufeyson. Loki, this is John Constantine.”

The magician’s eyes went very wide. “You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he muttered, even as he reflexively extended a hand.

Loki reached out and shook it. “I shit you not.” He then hesitated, seeing the man’s eyes had gone entirely white from lid to lid in a manner that didn’t look... normal or in any way natural. “Are you alright?”

After just a second, John snapped out of it with an acute grimace. “Sorry. You kicked off something. Sit down, let me think about this.”

Loki released his hand and made his way over to sit beside Tony.

John continued to glare at him, like the dark-haired man was somehow making this deliberately more difficult and complicated than it _should_ be. “Your name is seriously Loki Laufeyson?” he asked blithely.

“It was originally Odinson,” the teacher replied. “I changed it, but given I was... recuperating from an acute fugue state at the time, the urgency of that action and the reasons it seemed so vital, have eluded me ever since.”

“Odinson,” the magician muttered. “That’s not right. Loki’s a Jotunn, in all the stories. Well, the ones from Earth.” He frowned. “Not that I’m sure I entirely trust the available alternatives, all things considered.”

“Norse myth not from earth?” Tony mused incredulously.

“Well, I mean... So, there was this mess at a university almost ten years back? Nine? Something like that, it was in Greenwich. A friend of mine called me out there, said he kept getting visions about lightning-storms or something and old gods, and I had nothing else to do at the time except get drunk and distracted. About two weeks later something crashes to earth in a rural patch of land, and gets cordoned off within hours and a base of government spook-types crops up, except most of ‘em weren’t local boys. Dunno who they really were: not a lot of emblazoned logos or any flags.” He shrugged casually and took a sip of his drink.

“Sounds like S.H.I.E.L.D. to me,” Loki observed. “I hadn’t heard of them dropping in on the United Kingdom like that, however.”

“They paid off all the right local people to keep it off international news, and most people in the town are very well-off these days thanks to ‘insurance’ payments they receive. No fatalities happened, even when things went to hell  in a hand-basket.”

“How did it hand-basket, exactly?” Tony inquired.

“Well the, end result was that a couple of astrophysicists went missing, one of whom I’d been trying to chat up now and then at a pub near there, whenever her peers would kick her out of the labs to loosen up a bit. She was a brilliant girl, but one day she came in talking about this mad blond viking bloke and travel to other planets, and I tried to make sense of it, but the guy came in and I sort of don’t remember much after that except he glared at me and said something and next thing I knew I was outside the pub trying to light a cigarette and bein’ thankful I didn’t shit my pants, because there isn’t supposed to be a real god of thunder, but that was probably him, though I can’t tell you how. It wasn’t conventional magic I sensed off him, it was older and made looking at him too long a bit like staring into a very bright light-bulb.”

“What about the Odinson bit?” Tony prompted.

“Right, that. Well, I saw them again, before she and that Dr. Selvig prof disappeared awhile. They were with a few other people, who frankly looked like someone had taken a Tolkien approach to retrofuturistic body-armor––though the valkyrie-looking girl with them was something else, and I regret every day that I didn’t take the risk of strolling up just for a chance to see what she might look like when she wasn’t scowling, but they were talking about Thor’s brother, sort of loudly right on the sidewalk outside the pub. Now, people were staring, and it was pretty hilarious and all, but most of them weren’t really listening to what they were saying or making much sense of it if they did.”

The magician snorted and offered a self-deprecating grin, as he continued, “Of course, then there’s me, and I’ve had to learn a lot of myths in my time just to survive and while the Norse ones haven’t come in handy too often, I figured when they meant Thor’s brother they must’ve meant Baldr, right? But no, the name they brought up was _Loki_ , and they kept referring to him as Thor’s brother, and that’s just a bit absurd, really. Loki, as I know it, and all my resources indicate, was almost Odin’s equal, and sort of taking advantage of being a member of his house. He and Odin were blood brothers and everything. Anyway, pedantic mythological discrepancies aside, the long story short is that a big metal demonic-looking monstrosity that could vaporize whole chunks of infrastructure at a time appeared out of nowhere and caused a hell of a mess, and I got out of dodge. I haven’t seen Dr. Foster since then, but I met Selvig last time I was thrown in a mental institution again––long story––and he kept going on about a rainbow bridge, and someone falling forever through fire, or being poisoned or something, their sight and sense of self burnt away.” He shrugged. “I dunno, really, I was a bit off my tits on anti-psychotics I didn’t need, at the time. Selvig got released a day or so later, and he didn’t remember anything he said. I nicked his charts later, and I suspect he’s got a low-level psychic ability which makes him vulnerable to visions; he seems to get psychiatric help with it once every couple of years. The things he said made a bizarre sort of sense, though, if they might be considered a possible future, or a lick or prophecy even, maybe.”

“So it seemed while you were off your tits on anti-psychotics,” Loki clarified.

“Well, after a bit, too, but now it’s hard to remember even that. I think that was because I had to surgically remove part of my own soul and accidentally left some key memories in the bad half.”

Loki shot his lover an incredulous look.

Tony shrugged helplessly.

“Actually, come to think of it, I got the same shivers when you came in as when I was in the same pub as Thor,” John mused. “Family trait?”

“That wouldn’t entirely explain why I had an irresistible impulse to change my surname to _Laufeyson_ ,” Loki countered.

“Maybe you’re adopted? Maybe the blood-brother thing was to bind you to the family against betrayal such as finding out about that? Old gods screw each other and their kin over like that all the time,” the magician suggested. “Even worse than Fae.”

“Pardon my incredulity,” said the teacher. “I’m hardly a god.”

“Hmm. You have odd dreams sometimes?” John asked, fingers tracing idle shapes along the edge of the table as he held Loki’s gaze steadily.

“I have nightmares of a recurring nature, yes.”

“About?”

“Fire, and explosions of poisonously technicolor light full of half-molten shards of volcanic glass.”

“And falling?”

“Everyone dreams of falling. It’s extremely common,” Loki said.

A small half-grin tugged at the corner of John’s mouth, and his bright blue eyes seemed very cold but wickedly amused. “Sure is. _Chronic_ falling dreams even, are pretty common.” He picked up a salt-shaker from the middle of the table and popped the lid off of it, pouring a bit into the palm of one hand. After he set the shaker and lid aside, he reached into his pocket for a cigarette. “Got a light, either of you fine gentlemen?”

Loki pulled out a lighter and proffered a copper-green flame.

“Dramatic touch, that. Very nice,” the magician mused, and leaned across the table to inhale and light the tip. A waitress noticed and seemed about to head over to their table but the blond man offered her a charmingly roguish smile and muttered something quietly in Latin under his breath, and she was distracted by another customer. Exhaling smoke, John rolled the salt around in his palm. “Don’t suppose you’d shed blood for the sake of inquiry, Mr. Laufeyson?”

“Are you serious?” the teacher deadpanned.

“Just a couple of drops?”

“I know showmen fairly well, Mr. Constantine. What do you have in mind for the salt and why did you look to me first for a light?” Loki inquired.

“Figures you’d have the right sort of intuitive frame-work, for it. Fine, no blood then. The fire will have to do.” John poured the salt across the untouched middle bit of table between them, spread it into a uniform thin layer with a brush of his fingers. He took a deep drag off of his cigarette, and exhaled, scattering some, but not all of the salt, most of it remaining rigidly in place as if frozen there.

The salt only scattered from sections which left bare dark wood visible, forming an intricate seal and a few complex sigils, outlines by grains of pale salt.

John whistled. “Someone has got to you good, it looks like. This stuff is from some damned old styles of magic: very old. I only know one of those sigils and it’s that one, and it’s deliberately to fuck with memory, to drain it or lock it down like an anchor or a lynch-pin. You not knowing shit is vital to _somebody’s_ plans.”

Loki was staring at the seal with his lips slightly parted, and a deep furrow between his brows, making him look equally incredulous and pained. “Can you remove that, please? The salt.”

The magician’s eyebrows raised. He reached to sweep it away.

“One second,” Tony insisted, taking a quick picture of it with his phone. “Carry on, then,” he assured.

John swept it away with the side of his hand, rendering it a harmless pile of salt again. “Side-effects, I take it.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, the teacher took a very slow and deep breath, then let out also slowly. He then did this twice more. It didn’t help the sudden throbbing in his head.

“Loki?” Tony asked softly. He rested a hand over his lover’s. He then jerked back with a faint hiss. “Ow.”

Looking alarmed, Loki snapped back to awareness, his hand jerking back. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, fine, just... that was weird, it was like you were _really_ cold.” He flexed his hand a few times, the bone-numbing iciness fading and his skin looking more pink in its wake as he warmed back up.

The magician looked back and forth between the two of them quickly. “I think, gentlemen, that what you’ve got going here is a bit outside my jurisdiction. I try to stick with terrestrial oddities and magics. They give me more than enough trouble, and don’t destroy whole sections of city block because of a familial disagreement.” He thought about it. “Well. Sometimes they destroy a lot of people in one fell swoop, but it’s usually a lot less property damage, and usually I can get their souls back eventually.”

“It’s been an enlightening discussion, though I now have far more questions than answers,” Loki conceded, with some genuine gratitude. “As well as a headache.”

John Constantine just grinned unpleasantly at him. “Welcome to my world every day of my goddamn life, you posh viking bastard.”

“You deserve it, you cowardly limey cunt,” the teacher shot back, a bit more Norwegian accent bleeding through than usual.

The magician cracked up laughing and bought them both drinks before leaving with some apparent haste.

Loki trailed his fingers over the pile of salt idly, once he’d left.

“So... You’re magic, maybe.”

“And Detective Sting of Liverpool, there, thinks I might be a god.”

“It’s... possible.”

The teacher shot him an exasperated look.

“That, uh, incident in Greenwich was never connected to the name Odinson by anyone else, though,” Tony murmured. “Or your name at all. It was only a little over eight years ago, almost nine, and I’d put it on my timeline of possibly related events, but didn’t really get the ‘god of thunder’ angle from it before. I guess I didn’t dig into it deep enough, but I certainly will now.”

“Wouldn’t this all seem overly obvious?” Loki sighed. “My name being so clearly marked, the connection is far too easy to make, and a bit too ridiculous. I researched the myths, obviously, after first seeing my changed surnames and finding I was named after a god of chaos doomed to bring about Ragnaröck, which is lovely, and the fact christianity later made him out to be yet another of their devils is just an added delight, yes. All of these are great things to discover for a paranoid amnesiac. They’re just _stories_ , and most of them aren’t even very accurate.”

The younger man blinked slowly. “Repeat that last one?”

“They’re legends, not even true history.”

“That’s not what you said.”

“What?”

“You just said, ‘They’re just stories, and most of them aren’t even _accurate_.’”

Loki hesitated. “Did I?”

“Yeah.”

“... At least there’s hope that I’ve never given birth to a horse, then?”

Tony half-smiled helplessly. “Or spent many weeks ‘distracting’ one.”

Loki grimaced. “I’m hoping against that too, yes. Along with having my lips sewn shut. It would be a crime against humanity.”

“A tragedy” the younger man lamented. “You’re way too good at sucking cock for that to ever be less than a tragedy.”

“ _You_ should talk,” the teacher countered.

With a wide grin, Tony shot him a leer. “Trying to flatter me, Silver-tongue?”

“Succeeding.”

“Maybe,” he conceded. “I say we get out of here, yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

Tony frowned slightly. “Separate exits?”

“Yes.”

The younger man sighed. “And routes.”

“And then I’ll have you all to myself for a few more hours yet.”

Tony smiled sly and hungry at that. “Worth it, then,” he said, and stood up to wander out.

Loki watched him go. He turned back to the table, and the salt, and swept at it lightly, so it again spread out in a more uniform layer, rather than a pile. Taking a deep breath, he pulled back his hand slightly and puffed the lightest hint of a breath over the salt. He felt a prickling tingle at the edge of his awareness, like pins and needles in a muscle long-numbed, and saw a hint of strings in the air, opalescent and semi-transparent, like ghosts of nerve-cells made of volcanic glass.

The seal appeared in the salt again, still more complex than it had been before, and some runes visible in multiple thin rings wrapped around each sigil of the trinity seal. The teacher’s breathing quickened for a moment, and he felt cold to his bones, but not in a manner he could classify as painful. It felt, somehow, strengthening.

He knew man’s myths, and had believed them mythical; the mad Englishman’s words suggested that things might be more complicated than that.

 _Not even accurate_.

He felt an urge to reread the old stories, listening closely within his own mind for whispers of memory which resonated, and whether they indicated truth or falsehood. He was terrified that it might be enlightening in ways he never wanted it to be.

Well. Never within the past seven years.

Before that? Who knew. Maybe he had wanted it, at the time?

His memory hissed discordant. _Close to truth: a lie used frequently to cover the truth. Not itself true. Not most of the time, if ever._ Loki blinked rapidly and stared down at the seal for another few moments. He took a picture on his own phone, sent it to one of his own secured servers, over an encrypted connection, and deleted the original before trailing his hands back through the salt to make a single stripe of it to leave behind. He left money on the table, and departed out the same door he had entered through. For not the first time, he wondered if it would not be better for all involved, if he stay forgotten, and mortal, and human. If not better for all, Loki mused, definitely for his own peace of mind.

 _Peace bores you_ , memory tugged at him. _Always._

He tried to shake off the thought, but it persisted, luxuriantly, which suggested to Loki that this must be familiar old habit, and one which had given him much pleasure before: this _incapability_ of being satisfied in a peaceful and uniformly patterned world. He would always require disruption.

_This implies terrible things about your current romantic fixation, of course._

Loki shuddered at that. No, that wasn’t the truth of it.

The truth was, he knew Tony Stark would never be _boring_. Loki felt terribly certain that the younger man would only grow more complex and brilliant; he might become wiser, but no less daring nor cunning nor dangerous with age, and never truly tamer. Tony Stark would never be less than all the power of a thousand storms contained somehow in a fragile human form.

Mr. Loki Laufeyson was only human. He couldn’t resist the draw of such a man. Could a god? Could a creature to whom centuries are more like years or even months, really find it worthwhile to love even a light as bright as Tony Stark’s, or would he be too arrogant, too above pathetic mortals and their weaker bodies?

The teacher, human as he felt just then, walking the long way back to a particular hotel room, did not want to find out whether it might be the latter case, and he didn’t want to see what that might do to Tony. That thought made it easier to push down the hiss of hyper-awareness that came with some of his memory-recollection episodes. It was easier than usual, by far, to lock up the more predatory feelings deeper under his own skin, and feel less like he could not quite recognize himself.

It was even easy, to his relief, to lock away the emotional content of the conversation with John Constantine ( _memory of golden hair and the gleam of unnatural metal, memory of a shadow, memory of cold, memory of fear-of-cold-causing-harm-to-loved-ones, fear of self, hatred of fear, hatred of self, hatred of betrayer–––_ a hiss, and a series of replacements–– _brother an oaf, a family a bit overly fond of names from the old religions, cold is comforting_ ) for the most part, and block those avenues of self-rediscovery, with a few twists of crystalline will.

He glimpsed himself in a store window as he did it, and realized his own eyes were glowing slightly green and stopped dead in his tracks, trying to breathe against an onslaught of almost-memories, which he pushed back and locked away again with an effort of herculean will.

The effort weakened something, but Loki couldn’t tell yet whether for good or ill. He walked on, carefully forgetting and trying not to resent himself for doing so.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki stabilises some magic that he isn't inclined to allow to deteriorate yet, and makes a deal or two to do so. Obadiah Stane makes a few grave mistakes.
> 
> Loki also finds out that his cellphone number is listed in James Rhodes' contacts list as an emergency contact for Tony Stark.

Tony watched Loki tap away at the keyboard of a laptop, looking irritated, for nearly half an hour before giving up his homework for the time being and wandering over to settle behind his lover on the bed, legs on either side of Loki’s hips and his chin on the teacher’s shoulder. “Prose Edda?”

“Yes. It’s a bit frustrating.”

“How so?”

“I’m increasingly aware of the Christian influence of the people who chose to write these tales down, and I know there is much that is missing, but I can’t find it anywhere on the pages here, or in my own memory,” Loki murmured.

“But some of it rings a few bells?”

The older man nodded. “I feel like this has to be insane, though. I’m not a god. I’m not some alien, powerful, ageless thing. All of my _living_ memory is human. I have been weak and I have been hurt and I have been pathetically unable to care for my own self while I relearned speech in the wake of remembering how to read, and it was agonizing. Nothing about me is anything like... well, a trickster god.”

Tony hummed. “Arguable. You admitted that you learn languages a lot easier than most people, almost to a savant-level, your programming work is almost supernatural, it’s so twisted and complex, and nothing seems to be able to keep you out for too long if you’re determined to crack it. You’re an incredibly good liar and actor, you’re even stronger than you look, and you’ve mentioned the knife-throwing as well as other fighting-related skills that would probably come in handy in a place full of cheerfully-violent viking sort of near-immortals as Asgard seems likely to be. Also, I’m wiling to suggest you have the body and face of a god of sex, but I’m a little biased.”

“A little?” Loki inquired lightly, his tone playful.

“Just a bit.”

Shaking his head, the teacher sighed. “It seems too easy an answer to trust. No one is really destined for things like gods and heroes. Life is never so tidy as fate and prophecies. Nothing is as easy as it seems in old myths and legends, for anyone.”

“‘Life _is_ pain, highness; anything who says differently is selling something,’” Tony quoted _The Princess Bride_ shamelessly.

Loki chuckled. “Yes, precisely. I do try so hard not to sell to _myself_ that which is false. That is why I find this difficult to believe. At heart, as a liar, I know a bit better than to wholly trust myself, despite all the evidence.”

“Like memories sort of ringing true?”

“A bit, yes.”

“Still mostly Thor-centric?”

“Mostly. Some of the tales of Odin, I remember like I heard them as a child, and aspired to them,” Loki said softly. “It hurts.”

Tony kissed the back of his neck and settled both arms around his lover’s waist. “Sounds like then we get to World War II in the history books and my father keeps coming up. Fuckin’ maddening.”

A low, amused sound escaped the older man’s chest, at that. “I’d rather you have no thought of either of our fathers in your head, when you’re holding me, dear.”

“Chase them away, then,” Tony challenged. “There are a few guaranteed ways to banish anything so wholesome as family from my mind, after all.” He grinned at the sound of Loki’s laptop snapping shut, and squeezed the man a little tighter when Loki reached over to set it aside on the bedside table.

“It might be difficult to employ certain tactics, if you insist upon clinging like a limpet to my back, Tony.”

The teenager rocked his hips forward, deliberately letting himself enjoy the friction, and take in the feel and smell of his love. With a purring hum, he sighed, “Maybe I like it back here,” and felt himself grow a bit hard.

Loki emitted a playful rumbling almost-growl in response, and took firm, but not-bruising, hold of Tony’s wrists. “You want me to make you submit, this time, pet? I might even let you struggle a while before I make you still enough for my purposes.”

And that had the young inventor fully hard very quickly. He might have emitted a small groaning sound, his arms subconsciously tightening around Loki’s waist.

The teacher tugged sharply at his wrists, pulling him forward at the same time Loki let his own hips roll back against his lover’s hips, making Tony gasp raggedly at the sudden pressure and friction, and then whine high as Loki proceeded to pull his wrists further forward and grind back against him much more roughly.

“Even rubbing against my behind, you long to be controlled in your pleasure. How lovely and desperate you sound, even now.”

Tony emitted a whimper, hips bucking helplessly into the continued too-hard friction, even as his breathing became more uneven and his arms shook.

“Tell me what is on your mind, pet.”

The younger man made a few more breathless noises in time with slow-and-deliberate-and-ungentle movements of Loki’s hips, before he managed to utter, “H-how I w-want your stomach rubbing harder than this against my cock as you f-f-fuck me, please, Loki sir, _please!_ ” His pitch rose toward the end in response to a sudden, faster jerk of the older man’s hips back against him, then fell and wavered as Loki then suddenly stopped, leaving his lover breathless and needy.

“Good, pet,” Loki purred, and let him go, turning around to pin Tony down and kiss him while rutting down hard against the other man’s erection with his own, moaning softly as his lover trembled under such treatment and whispered his name softly. He nipped sharply at the skin over his throat, enough to sting disapprovingly and make Tony keen and then hiss with discomfort.

He then corrected himself: “Please, sir, please, m-master, _please_.”

“Oh, pet, do not call me master of you,” Loki chided gently, not quite reproving: flattered, but correctional. “You may call me sir, you may call me your god, you may call me ‘Loki sir’ if you like. I enjoy your respect, but I would not be master to you. I would never own you beyond what you would offer me.”

“W-what’s so different about me calling you that?”

“You are not my thrall, you are not any less than I. You are my equal, Tony my pet, and you are not anyone’s slave. You are my _love_.”

Tony shivered. “I love you too, Loki... sir.”

Smirking at the near-misbehavior, his expression warmed considerably at the sentiment behind it: the suggestion that this man would be a most _defiant_ pupil always, full of desire to learn, but a reluctance to be too grateful. Loki loved defiance, deep within his heart and soul, with a fierce passion, and Tony was the embodiment of every way which made him love it; to bend such a man to his will––to hold him because he _wanted_ to be held, to be _allowed_ to mark him because _Tony loved being marked by him_ , and for this marvelous wild creature to long for Loki’s control and domination out of his own raw sensuality and desire––did things to Loki that he could never compare to anything within his own memories, even the oldest ones he had awoken over time, few in number though they were, and irrevocably distant.

It did _such_ things.

“Oh Tony, my pet, my love, I do love how sweetly you burn for me,” Loki purred, and captured his lover’s pliant mouth in a domineering kiss, deep and wholehearted, as he pushed the younger man’s wrists up until Tony’s hands met the headboard.

Taking the hint, Tony gripped the lower edge of the headboard; although he then used it for leverage to arch his body upward, rolling his hips up against Loki’s and making them both gasp into the kiss. Loki’s hands gripped his lover’s hips hard and held them still, before one hand retreated to find the bottle of lube amidst the blankets. He smiled a little against the line of Tony’s jaw when the younger man pulled a condom packet from where it had been lost sometime the night before, amongst headboard and pillows, and proffered it. When Loki took it, the proffering hand obediently returned to the headboard.

Soon after, Loki trailed his mouth slowly down Tony’s body as two slick fingers offered only teasing, shallow little strokes in and out of his lovely pet’s hole, making Tony whimper and try in vain to grind his hips down for more, but the teacher’s other hand prevented any such motions.

“Tell me every little thought crossing your mind, right now, pet.”

Tony whimpered. “H-hard to think. Just w-want more of you, Loki sir, please more. Fuck me, and own me; I want all of you.”

“Oh, pet,” Loki purred. “Your words are so lovely, I would hear only more of them. If they cease, I will stop.”

The younger man emitted a low noise like a wail and immediately rambled, “Please don’t stop, don’t leave me like this. I’m yours, you’re so good to me, you never leave me unhappy, you’re so good, Loki sir, I love your h-hands and–– _ohhh fuck yes your mouth oh my god_.” His whole body trembled as Loki swallowed his cock in one fell swoop. He made incoherent noises for several long seconds, and Loki gave a scolding hum, suction stopping and his mouth beginning to retreat.

“N-no! Don’t stop, don’t stop, your mouth is so good I can’t think, you feel so hot and wet, and you swallow me like it’s nothing. Your tongue––oh please keep doing that with your tongue _ah-hhhahhhh,_ L-Loki s-s-sir _oh my god your tongue_.”

Tony continued to narrate and ramble as Loki hummed contently around his cock, leisurely letting the hot length slide in and out of his mouth, down to the back of his throat without apparent effort now and then, just to hear Tony’s words fall apart entirely every time he did it, and reduce his pet to incoherent streams of syllables whenever he swallowed, as Tony tried desperately to keep talking, but words and indeed thought itself, were lost to him, for those fleeting moments: the fiercely genius, brilliant mind of Tony Stark, sent flying away by application of a silver-tongue and the pull of a hungry swallowing motion around him.

Then Tony’s pleas altered in nature, all filters gone, words flowing without thought enough left to censor them with anything like reserve: “So close, please, sir, I want to come from you fucking me, want you to take me hard, make me feel you for days. I want to ache; I want to be reminded of you, that I’m yours even when I can’t touch you and you’e not allowed to touch me; I want to feel it, _please_. I n-need it––need you inside me, pushing me apart and fucking me like you want to stay inside me so deep I can never be free of you, I don’t want to be, I want to be yours, just yours, p-please.” He cut off with a hoarse cry at the cruel twisting pressure Loki’s fingers applied to his prostate, sudden and hard and almost too much even as the teacher’s mouth pulled off of him. “P-please,” Tony sobbed.

“Oh, pet, I will give you all that you need to feel loved and more.”

“Y-yes.” It was a breathless whisper, followed by a whine when Loki’s hand retreated, but then he heard the rustle of foil and the click of the lube-bottle’s lid and huffed a needy sigh. “Be good to me, give to me, take from me everything,” Tony purred, eyelids half-lowered and his head tilting back. He grinned wickedly when Loki’s entire body then went still, watching him closely. It sent a thrill through him, making him revel in feeling so exposed, so needy and flushed and wholly open to the older man’s scrutiny. It was so good, to be so raw and naked and aching with weakness and need so that his muscles shook, and to see only heat and lust and desperate want on Loki’s face as he stared, and stroked lubricant over himself in one smooth gesture, eyes greedily wandering over every visible inch of Tony’s skin.

“You’re impossibly gorgeous like this,” Loki hissed, kneeling up between Tony’s legs before grabbing the younger man’s hips and dragging them up into his lap. One hand slipped between them to guide himself into Tony’s body, making them both groan.

“Fuck, yes like that, stretch me, god you’re so deep,” Tony whined. He had never been _this_ talkative in bed, not _this_ unreserved in asking for what he wanted, but Loki’s threat, to stop if the words halted, and how much they clearly were driving his lover mad, made it so easy to let them go, let them say things Tony didn’t even realize were so true until they escaped him in hoarsely whimpering syllables as Loki began to fuck him, slow and hard and impossibly deep: “ _So good, harder, wreck me, ruin me, break me and let me see how much you want me like this, like I’m better when I’m ruined, when I’m yours, please, Loki sir, faster OH FUCK YES HARDER AH!_ ”

Loki obliged each request his lover made, then, for more sensation, begging to be overwhelmed and lost under the sensual onslaught that Loki was more than happy to provide. One hand began to slap Tony’s left buttock hard on every other stroke, while the other, where it held Tony’s chest down hard enough to prevent them sliding up the bed with each thrust, moved just an inch to one side––enough to let him pinch the younger man’s left nipple sharply and roll it between his thumb and forefinger.

“I’m gonna come, I need to, Loki sir, please let me come, please sir, please,” Tony began to sob.

“Not without permission.”

The younger man held back valiantly, though tears trailed down his face and he shook with sobs as he pleaded, his swollen cock soaked in his own precome between them, painting Loki’s stomach and his own with it.

Loki rolled forward, bending Tony’s body back as he did, pushing the younger man’s legs still further apart and fucking into him deeper until Tony was screaming pleas for permission.

“Oh, fuck, please let me come like this, please you’re in me so deep, please please oh f-fuck I c-can’t hold it back much longer, please let me, Loki, please give me... please...”

“Please give you what?”

“Please ask me to come for you, I want it to be for you,” Tony choked, fresh tears falling as he floated on the pleasure and pain, submerged so deeply he found more truth than he knew himself to possess, in those pleading words.

“Oh pet, my pet, my Tony,” Loki moaned. “Shatter for me and _come now_.”

The scream that escaped Tony’s lips shocked even himself, coming from deep in his body as orgasm wracked through him so hard it hurt, where his muscles clenched around Loki still so deep inside him, enough to bring more tears from him, but the bliss was still more overwhelming, making his vision grow white as he flew with it, shuddering as Loki rode him through it hard enough to make his whole body, pliant and boneless as he was, tremble and shake and more far-away seeming noises to rise from his throat.

It was pleasure and pain and perfection, and it sent him still higher when he felt an heard Loki come, whispering words of love and possessiveness and wonder into his ear as he did, those words softening the trip back down from cloud nine so that Tony floated, rather than fell, whimpering as Loki gently stroked his arms.

Tony didn’t recall when Loki managed to pull out, not even feeling the emptiness until he came back to himself a bit more, and felt a damp cloth cleaning them both up, and sighed contently, leaning back against Loki’s chest.

“You are well?” the teacher asked softly.

“I am so good there aren’t words for it,” Tony murmured drowsily, the exertion clearly beginning to take its toll. “I love you. You’re perfect. Stay.”

“I will. I am happier at your side than anywhere else, I’m realizing.”

“Good,” his lover murmured, even as his eyelids fell shut and he began to surrender to sleep. “That’s both of us, then.”

Loki held him close, and dozed lightly for a couple of hours himself, before the real world beckoned to them both, and the time came to return, by separate means, to the school, before the hour grew too suspiciously late.

 

~~

 

That Thursday, fairly late into the night, John Constantine waited in the same pub as before. He had been unsurprised to receive a follow-up call, from the party he didn’t owe a debt to... yet.

Loki showed up after nine, looking sleep-deprived and a little haggard.

“Bad dreams?” the magician asked.

“You’re a very hard man to find leverage against, by digital means. Your spartan digital footprint in the world is even impressive, for this day and age. I’m not quite sure how you manage it,” the teacher drawled in flat tones, by way of greeting.

John’s expression hardened. “What are you up to that you need something on me?”

“You’re a con-man, and I am of no value to you. I merely need a reason to dissuade you from too easily selling out my whereabouts, my capabilities, and my true nature. As a liar and con-man myself in many ways, I assure you it’s nothing personal. If I were you, I’d sell me out too.”

After a few long and thoughtful  moments, John nodded. “I could always just drop the secret that you’re shagging one of your students.”

“I plan to inform his father myself soon enough, and my teaching career, while it has been fulfilling in the short term and a good place to recover my wits and further strengthen my sense of who I am and what I want from my life, is nothing vital to me. It is a mask, nothing more. I can get other masks very easily, and vanish from any mundane human eyes.”

 “But not magic ones.”

“Hence my need for leverage over you,” Loki assured. “I _found_ nothing which you could be imprisoned for, but I could make your life very difficult, by means of my particular skill set. I can manufacture more digital footprint for you, some of it potentially getting you arrested. I can do it even from a jail cell, if needs must, but I would rather not. You seem a clever man of a sort I might appreciate knowing better, in different circumstances.”

“You’re not bad looking yourself, but then, I suppose you technically have the body of a god, so that might be a bit obvious,” John mused. “Alright, so you’ve made the point that you’re paranoid and even human-like as your limitations are these days, it’s safer for both of us to be allies than aim anything war-like at each other, because neither of us actually want to gut each other, nor see the casualties from other people tearing apart our lives and causing a lot of messy collateral damage. So what do you need my help with? Waking up?”

“I would prefer to stem the flow of returning memories, or at least very deliberately control what I can reacquire and what I may decide not to,” Loki corrected. “I would also like to prevent full reversion from this mortal form to any other under the surface.”

The magician’s eyebrows raised. “Well. I can safely say that I never saw that one coming. May I ask why?”

“I only answer because I believe you will understand my feelings very acutely, when I explain that if as you suggest, I may be a god, and I have been stored here on earth for just shy of ten years in human form, ignorant of my past exploits and present capabilities both for the most part, I was sent here by Odin, who lied to me about my own nature somehow in a way which has carried through to my personal narrative here on earth unshakably. If, instead of killed, I was given this life, I deeply suspect that his paternalistic self felt inclined to teach me a sort of _lesson_ or several, and that something he suspects I will do, or learn, will unlock the spells currently containing me. I am inclined to teach him a few things about his own lessons and make his show of control of me and my fate a failed one, because no one should be able, or allowed, to do this to me without consequences, just because they believe that they know better.”

John grinned, bitter and wickedly joyous, and said, “Oh yes, I do know that feeling. I know it very well. I think I might even enjoy helping you, knowing that. It’ll be tricky, though. You’re already slipping more than you realize.”

“How so?”

“Your lighter is out of fuel, but you expected it to light anyway. And it did.”

Loki’s lips thinned and he looked uneasy.

“Yeah. So, tricky: especially the first steps.”

“What need we do?”

“We need to head to the warehouse district and find a big empty space, preferably dusty. If no dust, we might need some powdered chalk. You’ll need to spill a little blood this time, if we’re to get a better look at the whole spell, instead of a single piece of it like with the salt. The thing is, that little bit I did see barely made sense to me, but it looked to me like you knew more about it than you wanted to, before you asked me to banish it. Am I right?”

Loki nodded. “Yes.”

“Think you can tap into that and identify symbols and their purposes, and help me decipher the spell, without waking up too much of your old self?”

The teacher grimaced. “I am willing to attempt it.”

“That’ll have to do, then. Let me make a couple calls.”

 

~~

An hour later, right before midnight, one of John’s contacts led them into a disused warehouse space that smelled faintly of old blood, but more heavily of rust, musty stale air, and old sun-baked newspapers. There was a layer of dust almost an inch thick over most of the floor.

“Perfect,” the magician commented, patting his associate on the shoulder before shoving him lightly out the door. “Now clear off for a couple of hours. I’ll meet you at the pub and buy you a couple rounds, mate.”

“Don’t wreck anything,” the groundskeeper warned. “Not again.”

With a wheedling smile, John chimed, “We’ll do our best,” and shut the door. Turning to face the wolf in sheep’s clothing behind him, John gestured toward the center of the vast empty structure, lit only by the two flashlights loaned to them by the groundskeeper. “After you.”

Loki shrugged and tread lightly, leaving footprints in the dust more like dents than holes, given how thick the dust truly was. It was like walking on a particularly dry and dirty cloud. When instructed, he stilled, and John pulled a large box of salt out of one of his coat’s more capacious pockets, and started a few tests a few steps forward and back, slowly walking backwards from Loki. He stopped about four yards away. “The edge of the semi-visible portion goes out to about here, that I can sense. You?”

“You will need more room. I cannot say how or why, but I know that you will.”

John stepped back further, watching the darker man’s expression as best he could at that distance, in such poor lighting. He stopped when he felt some of the tension suddenly snap off. “Oh. Here?”

“I think so.”

“Good.” He poured some of the salt into his hand and walked a slow, methodical, and perfectly circular perimeter around the god, sowing the lightest dusting of salt in and between his own footprints as he went. He hummed, but didn’t chant, and the tune was something discordant and old he had woven newer meanings into, given new flexibility to with his own belief and self-confidence, in dire times. Once he finished the circle, he called, “Spill a few drops of blood between your feet.”

Loki made an impatient noise as he turned off and pocketed his light, before he pulled a small pocket-knife out, and cut his forearm with it, on the outer-facing side. In the dim light of John’s flashlight, he let the blood trickle down, and plop into the dust.

John could feel each drop like a gong going off in his own head, and wondered how the other man could stand it. Then he sucked in a breath as Loki did the spell-work for him with just a thought. He could see a twisting coalescence in the air around the man, and felt the breeze of winds stirred by it, while suddenly all the dust within the circle pulsed and either rose into the air or anchored to the ground heavy as mud. As the cloud of risen dust fell back down, it clung to other bits of dust, not marring any of the complex designs now carved into the layer of dust on the floor. “Well fuck me.”

“No thank you,” Loki said, with his eyes visibly squeezed shut. “That was… more disruptive than I had intended it to be.”

“You’ve got more power than most terrestrial gods I’ve met,” John mused. “That’s not a slightly horrifying realization for me or anything, given what might happen to me if you revert while I’m working out how to stop your old self being set free. He might not take kindly to that.”

“I’m trying to convince myself you did that. It would help. Please shut up.”

The magician nodded, understanding the importance of some forms of selective self-deception, for the purposes of magic. “Remind me to tell you sometime about how I tapped into a temporal belief-well one Christmas by snorting the powdered bones of a saint.”

Loki’s breathing evened out and he opened his eyes at last. “Anything in the seal look coherent to you, on this scale?” he inquired, glancing down at it pointedly for only a moment before shutting his eyes again. After a breath, he reopened them. “I’ll aid as best I can, but it is easier if I’m asked direct questions about specific parts of what I remember, rather than seeing the whole laid out.”

“Right, let’s see, here,” John muttered, beginning to stroll around the perimeter of the seal. “Some of it’s deteriorated, even just since the other night. Must’ve stirred up a few things, but there’s more to it. Some of this has been breaking down slowly for a long while, but there’s sort of... add-ons? Look over at this bit, here. I dunno this sigil, but it’s got a lot of fresher work done on it, not quite fitting in with the original lines of the seal.”

The teacher turned to face the other man’s voice and opened his eyes, quickly focusing on the area the magician referred to. “I’ve been subconsciously doing maintenance. I don’t want it to break. It wasn’t designed to cope with that.”

“So you’ve met the terms of your sentence, I’d hazard.”

Loki’s brow furrowed. “I don’t care.”

“Why do you want to be mortal, mate? I can tell you straight away it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, not compared to what you are. You just put most of my tricks to shame with a bit of wind in an empty room. You have power and control that it makes my head hurt to think about, if you’d let loose and use it.”

“I’d rather not give Odin the satisfaction, and do mark carefully the transportation spells woven into the lines around that sigil. If it breaks, no matter where I am, or what I am doing, those will send me running back home,” the teacher intoned, his voice a bit sharper and more certain than Loki himself was. His whole skull burned with it. He snapped his eyes shut. “How to remove them?”

“Same way you do anything with magic: make something up and redraw the lines in the sand.”

Loki’s eyes opened again. He focused on the whole of the design, trying to understand it, though it made his head throb with something like a scream of rage, calling for blood and horror and vengeance.

 _Not yet_ , he whispered.

The roar dimmed and the whole room suddenly hummed.

 _Give me time, and I’ll make it worth your while. I’m you, after all_ , Loki further offered, his lips unmoving and his world suddenly very quiet. _Unweave the trap, set your own failsafes, to release you when I would be killed without your endurance. It’s only a matter of time, really. What’s a few decades to a god like yourself?_

The humming was a vibration of the whole building around them. Windows began to rattle loudly with it.

“Uh... Loki?” John asked lightly. “I swear I haven’t done a thing.”

“ _We know_ ,” Loki responded, his voice oddly harmonized with itself. His eyes glowed green and fierce.

The magician considered his options. Fleeing wouldn’t help; the size of the warehouse put the nearest viable door just too far away for him to reach with any great haste, given how limited his smoker's-lungs made his sprinting capabilities. Groveling would be out of place; they appeared to be busy with something. John decided, reluctantly, to wait it out.

Loki extended both hands over the seal and hissing wind and dust followed, lines reforming much more elegantly than any past repairs. Whole sections of the seal un-carved, smoothed over, and replaced. The very ground underfoot shook harder than the warehouse itself under the weight and power required to make those changes.

Then, after almost a quarter hour of ceaseless cacophony, it all stopped.

Loki’s hands fell slowly, gracefully to his sides, and he looked up at the ceiling: not even a little cracked under all the stress. Slowly letting his gaze fall to John Constantine, he ginned gleefully.

“Uh... who am I speaking to, exactly?”

“Just a man,” the spy and liar and teacher responded. “For the time being.”

“And how long is that?”

“Until I die. Fair trade, I thought.”

John nodded hesitantly. “I guess that’s one way to go about it. How’d you get... _yourself_ to agree?”

“I pointed out how much it would bother Odin, being unable to see me, unable to reach his seal upon me, unable to affect me or find me in the least no matter how hard he tried, and never know when to expect my sudden return,” said Loki. “I think he liked the idea quite a lot. Well... enough to spare a few decades.”

“Remind me never to try to kill you,” the magician said solemnly.

“Oh, I doubt you’ll forget now, but I won’t forget you.” His grin was menacing then, just for a moment. “Neither of me. And my other self can track your magic like a bloodhound, so do take care who you send my way, as well.”

“I need a drink,” John sighed. “You owe me many drinks after this. Buy me enough to get me blind drunk and you can call us even.”

“We have a deal, then, Mr. Constantine. Let’s head back to the pub.”

 

~~

 

Friday, during school hours, Loki had notable dark shadows under his eyes, and looked particularly grim. All of his classes were extraordinarily well-behaved, out of instinctive desire to not see their usually immaculate teacher (who looked hung-over and sleep deprived to a thoroughly wasted degree) angry when in this state.

It turned out, as John Constantine had warned him, when the buzz of having worked such large-scale magic wore off, there was indeed hell to pay. His entire body ached and felt as though his body were hollow, like the interior of a Jack-o-lantern: all scraped out and left to dry with a miserable candle baking him from the inside.

It was a very long day.

Tony, upon arriving in detention, bypassed his desk to instead stroll right up to his teacher’s, arms folded over his chest and one eyebrow raised. “What did you do?”

“I made a deal with the devil?”

The young inventor’s eyes narrowed.

“Well... with myself.”

“About?”

“I’m Loki. Your magician was not mistaken,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to be. My... past self was disinclined to remain me. I made a deal with him, that should I be irreversibly going to die, as merely human, he can return and save both of our lives, and go seek his grand vengeance against Odin, who now has no idea where I am, how to track me, or how I altered and re-wrote his seal. Several decades or so mean little to him, and the longer before he reappears, the more unsuspecting his prey will be. So, he agreed, and here I remain.”

Tony stared at him, blinking a few times slowly. “But... why?”

“I’m not done yet. I have been given a mortal life. I plan to make the most of it.”

“You’re fine not knowing all of...” The younger man gestured vaguely.

“I know all that I need to about who I once was, I believe,” Loki murmured. “I will know more, as I study more, and grow my older memories through inferences, if I go back and read the old myths with a more critical eye. Who knows, perhaps if I build my own mind and characteristics strongly enough, I might be too enduring to get rid of, even for an old god.” He shrugged. “Time will tell. I’m just glad I have that time... and the chance to spend more of it with you.”

At that, Tony couldn’t help but smile a little. “Okay. Good.” He looked incredulous and baffled, but ridiculously happy. “Yeah. Wow.”

“Sit down, please, Mr. Stark,” the teacher chided gently.

Rolling his eyes, but not resisting, Tony walked over to his own desk and sat down, folding his ankles. “So which part of that whole episode has you looking like you had death warmed over for breakfast, lunch and dinner, today?”

“Magic. I overexerted my reserves, apparently, especially given how little use those particular powers have been put to for the past several years. I’m rusty. Also limited by what a mortal body can channel without deteriorating.”

“Damn.”

“Yes.”

“Can you... use magic now?”

“A little, but it is a lot of strain.”

Tony nodded. “Still really cool.”

“Actually, yes, it rather is.”

“By the way, what are we planning for summer, exactly? Weekends might not be so easy to manage.”

Loki considered. “You’ll be traveling a great deal, of course.”

“Yes, but working around that will be a few weeks at a time being entirely ignored and left to my own devices.”

“Weeks, you say?”

Tony began to grin. “Weeks. And my summer debit card. Want to go to Florence sometime?”

Loki hummed. “I _do_ like Florence.”

“Of course you do. Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

Tony grinned.

 

~~

 

The thing about remaining in school, Tony reflected, was that the rituals and routines gave him plenty of room to think, in between the bits of structure, than his own independent studies ever did. His independent studies, he devoured quickly but thoroughly, giving over the entirety of his focus to the absorption of data, and coming up with hypothetical implementations of concepts and lessons as he learned them. School kept his focus compartmentalized: dedicating a little attention to his work, a little to being a witty smartass for the amusement of himself and his classmates, and most of his teachers, and a lot to the various projects he did as soon as the dance from classroom to classroom was completed.

It was difficult, being in the same classroom as Loki, as he had expected to be. It taxed his self-control, but his teacher’s own effortless-looking performance (except for the way he still looked Tony’s way as soon as he was aware––even if only half-consciously––that none of the other students looked his way, and how his smiles sent Tony’s way had a keener sort of appreciation and fondness to them) inspired him to master this, just as Loki clearly had. It was a slow thing, but he did eventually develop an impressive degree of restraint; although it only seemed to apply when anyone other than Loki was present. Alone with just himself, or left alone with just himself and Loki, Tony could hold back nothing if he tried.

He and Loki talked strategy and politics of their quiet war in the evenings, in their smoking area, but otherwise kept apart from each other while on school grounds, and even hidden away in that secret place they shared, neither of them dared touch the other more than leaning against a shoulder or the briefest brush of lips; although that became more difficult, as summer grew closer. The last month in particular was excruciating, and their last weekend in their hotel room was painfully bittersweet.

It was far from the end, but it was the beginning of matters becoming more difficult. They had agreed to wait until Lorelei, alias Melodi Laury, finished staging her coup against Obadiah, which would take a few months further, given how deep the man’s claws were lodged in scandal-worthy secrets about so many other Stark Industries employees of influence and power in the company, and how well they all knew it. The list Tony kept track of, made up of people within the company with blood and petroleum-products staining their hands, grew longer every day.

So much cleaning house to do. So little time to do it, and yet it could not be rushed, nor could Loki afford to drop his current profession and lose his hiding place, while also making himself a target by which he might provide someone with new leverage against Tony.

So Tony’s eighteenth birthday didn’t come with a revelation that made his dad rage and try to disown him. They waited, but did still plan to deliver that news... once the current danger had been gotten rid of. They had scattered time together, once summer began: Tony’s life a blur of occasions for Stark Industries and a summer project for MIT, interrupted by lazy hours with Loki wherever the spy could find occasion and means to slip away with his younger lover, out of the spotlight and away from people who knew their names.

When not thus occupied, Loki kept up with Lorelei’s work, helped Natasha with a couple of summer courses she was teaching, and continued being a major thorn in the sides of the Ten Rings, and the Hand, and to a lesser (but not insignificant) extent S.H.I.E.L.D. too. He was busy, and when he wasn’t busy, there was Tony. He was playing so many long-games that some closer matters slipped under his radar, unforgivably so.

Neither of them had anticipated that Tony might be abruptly kidnapped on a trip to Afghanistan to help his father demonstrate some new weapons that were solely Tony’s own design. The whole trip had made the younger man nervous for days before, rambling at length about how he was certain that the measures he was taking weren’t successfully preventing Obie from sending some of them to markets they had no business in, that no western nation had any right to interfere with, let alone unbalance with such unfair advantages one side or the other of a conflict.

Loki had soothed him, assured him that he’d made sure every one of them had either been ‘lost’ and then carefully returned to inventory, and the others had self-destructed shortly before delivery to their final destination.

Now the teacher was staring at a blank wall feeling gutted and helpless.

The news at the other end of the teachers’ break room continued to repeat just how clueless everyone was as to where Tony Stark now resided. How the terrorist group known as the _Ten Rings_ had demanded ransom shortly after the teenager was taken, according to Obadiah Stane, who received the call when Howard was in-flight and out of reach; that call had been the first clue anyone had that Tony was even missing. It was another ten minutes of angry calls before Obadiah had reached anyone in the military with the necessary security clearance to confidently confirm or deny the terrorists’ claim, Obadiah said. “They confirmed it, said his convoy was violently attacked and left no survivors: only one missing, and that’s Tony.” He sounded genuinely mournful, like he was barely keeping it together.

Loki’s guts roiled with disgust at the sound of it and he launched himself from his chair, forcing his demeanor and footsteps to be as calm and inconspicuous as possible as he marched back to his own classroom. He pulled out a secured laptop and a few other devices which, when connected, contributed considerably to its raw processing power, and began to quietly crack his way into first Stark Industries, and then particularly Obadiah Stane’s own devices. He captured and stored all phone and email records with a few simple protocols, for later review. He found a ghost drive, and proceeded to copy every single file within it.

One of the newest, a video file, caught his attention.

By that time, the rest of the school was dark and silent, waiting for the dawn, which would be a Saturday, and free of interruption. Loki didn’t want to go home, yet. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself not to reach for various vices to help cope with his pained anxiety. He worked slower, without his full home-setup, but more carefully.

He put in headphones, and played the video, setting the audio to automatically translate. Ten minutes later, he barely restrained himself from hurling the laptop across the room, breathing hard and raggedly and his every vein and artery feeling like it was on fire with pure rage.

The video accused Obadiah of cheating the Ten Rings, trying to have them assassinate someone as important as Tony Stark for a relative pittance. They had one price for his life on offer, and another for his death, both of them very steep.

“I. Will. Destroy. You,” Loki swore softly, aiming it at Obadiah Stane and the Ten Rings leader in the video. Knowing now that only sheer luck had kept them from slaughtering Tony Stark made his very vision seem to blur. Just luck: the luck that one of the insurgents had taken time to look at his fine suit and familiar face and declare recognition.

Loki clenched his hands into fists for a moment and shut his eyes tightly to force himself to breathe. Then he forged a connection between Obadiah’s machine, and the Ten Rings, to smokescreen his own presence and cause further trouble for Stane alike.

It was even slower going than before, remotely guiding one machine to hack into yet another was like taping chopsticks to one’s fingers before trying to play piano, but Loki was always good at this sort of thing: slow and sneaky, leaving behind only what traces he wanted his enemies to see; however, when his intrusion was detected and shut down, at last, it was all too soon: before he had found out Tony’s location.

He swore in frustration and reluctantly tied up all remaining loose ends, left Obadiah’s machine with all its security protocols wide open, and shut down his machinery for the night. Dawn was creeping up on the outside world, as Loki finally dragged himself home and collapsed in his bed.

 

~~

 

Two weeks later, Loki was hunting down one of several leads to a high-ranking member of the The Hand in the middle of Chicago, who had helped arrange Obadiah Stane’s safe disappearance once Howard Stark had begun a witch-hunt for him after finding his old friend’s security protocols gutted and left wide open for him very suspiciously. Loki was sweaty and exhausted from the chase, but he had more secrets collected, and planned to put them into use immediately. He pulled a gun when he sensed someone else in his hotel room as soon as he arrived.

“Don’t have time to watch the news lately?” a familiar voice teased hoarsely. “I’ve been back a few days, but you didn’t stop hunting, not that I could get out of Howard’s sight until now.”

Loki almost dropped his gun and his coat both, then managed to hastily tuck the former into the pocket of the latter, slam closed and lock the door, and toss the coat over the nearest bit of smaller furniture, as he rushed forward and flicked on the light, staring down at the younger man in his bed.

“Tony,” he breathed, eyes fever-bright, as he leaned over his lover and settled his forearms carefully on either side of him, taking in all of his injuries: bruising everywhere, particularly a black eye, small cuts, what looked like a few mild scald-burns on his nose and chin, and something else, glowing faintly under his t-shirt. “I’d heard rumors that they found you, but none that you were back on this continent yet.”

“Yeah, Howard decided to keep the press circulating that I was recuperating on foreign soil, until we find Stane.”

Nodding, Loki hovered a hand over the glowing circle, silently asking permission to touch. “What happened to you?”

Pulling the older man’s hand down so it splayed across the first-prototype of the miniaturized arc-reactor, Tony shut his eyes. “You set Stane up for a nice fall, there, leaving all his security doors and windows open. Howard found out everything. Stane tried to flee the country with stolen designs for the... for what I made to bust out of a cave in Afghanistan, but he’s being hunted, now. It shouldn’t be long.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I can’t yet,” Tony whispered. “I just need you, right now, I need to be with you.” He took a breath. “And I need you to help me install a new model of this, while I’m here.” He tapped Loki’s hand where it still rested over the reactor. “This one overheats a little, and wasn’t exactly made of the least-ragged materials.”

“What is it?”

“Arc reactor. My version.”

Loki stared at him. “You mean this is equivalent to that massive construct that powers two of the largest Stark Industries factories in the country?”

“Yeah.” He smiled a bit brightly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wait ‘til I tell you about the suit.” He fell quiet and pliant then, almost desperately so, when Loki finally kissed him, slow and deep and needy, as though trying to drink him down all at once. When they parted, Tony smiled sincerely for the first time since he left the cave. “I had to come back to you.”

“Shh, you did, Tony. You’re here with me, and if anyone dares take you again I will burn them to the ground,” Loki promised. “I will destroy them so utterly that their names will cease to hold any meaning.”

Shuddering and clinging to the older man with his face buried in Loki’s shoulder, Tony finally let himself crack, let himself feel the anguish of losing Yinsen, of the argument he’d had with Howard and the things both of them had said to one another, the pain he’d inflicted on his father for _not protecting him enough_ , for never getting Obadiah out of their lives earlier because it had been _easier_ than finding a worthy replacement. He’d even told Howard that it was his efforts that brought Melodi to the company, for both of their sakes. Not long after that, he had stormed out under a dark cloud of his father’s accusations of being a fool, of being a foolish child to meddle in Obadiah’s affairs as he had, and had it thrown in his face that Melodi was being investigated for possible embezzlement charges (which he would tell Loki about, as soon as he stopped sobbing wretchedly like he could scarcely keep air in his lungs before it was ripped out of him in another wrench of sadness and horror and pain), which Tony had known, but Howard seemed to think was damning.

Loki trailed soft open-mouthed kisses over his face and the side of his head, wherever he could reach without dislodging the other man at all, while one of his hands stroked up and down the younger man’s side, and the other held an arm locked about Tony’s waist to keep him close as they could get while still clothed.

It felt like hours to the teenager, before he managed to finally cry himself out. He was so tired, then, feeling every lost hour of sleep and every hour of additional loss of temporal surety from jet-lag, all at once.

He was almost asleep when Loki asked softly, “How did you find me?”

“I might have put a small GPS tracker under your skin in the middle of your upper back right before summer,” Tony muttered. “It’s highly secured, only communicates any outgoing data to the most heavily encrypted server I’ve got, and only when I send a particular key-session to unlock it remotely, through the nearest satellite network if possible, or cellular data if that fails. Should work fine ‘nless you’re underground, but I’m working on an upgrade for that.”

The teacher lifted his head a bit to shoot him a look. “You could’ve _asked_.”

Tony looked sheepish. “Sorry.”

With a sigh, Loki shook his head and kissed the younger man again before rolling him over, guiding Tony to drape over him like a particularly unwieldy and heavy blanket. “Go to sleep, Tony. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, you fool. It’s because I love you.”

This being the first time it had been said to him so very directly, Tony melted and sucked in a ragged breath. “Love you too, Loki, so much.”

“Shhh, pet,” the teacher purred. “As you love me, rest yourself. I want you well, that I may keep you the longer.”

“Yes, sir,” Tony murmured, relaxing bonelessly in response to the gently-commanding, openly adoring tone of Loki’s voice: familiar and comforting and making him feel at _home_ , for the first time since he’d woken up in that now-destroyed cave system, which remained blissfully far from his mind now. There was only the quiet susurration of their combined breathing, and the movement of Loki’s chest under him with each breath, and each steady heartbeat.

 

~~

 

They awoke damnably early the next morning, to Loki’s cellphone making an incredible racket.

Tony saw the number before Loki did, and it caused him to grab it first. He answered it quickly with a hoarse, “Hello?”

“Man, what the hell did you say to your dad after you left? And why doesn’t he have this number? Why do I have two of your numbers and why is this one listed as ‘only in case of emergency, apocalypse, or Howard drinking himself into a coma’?”

Loki, close enough to hear all of that, felt his eyebrows raise slowly.

Tony shot him a nervous glance and blushed slightly, clearing his throat. He then put the call on speaker, seeing that it was pointless to pretend his lover wasn’t listening. “Look, so maybe this isn’t actually my phone.”

“Tony...”

“It’s not.”

“Whose is it?”

Tony cleared his throat. “You asked me not to mention much in the way of details or otherwise compromise your plausible deniability.”

“Dammit, Tony, I checked when you added this to contacts, and this number has been in my phone for months now!”

Tony’s blush deepened as his lover’s eyebrows raised further. “Yes.”

“So you ran to Loki’s place? Seriously?”

This time the teacher’s jaw dropped, hanging open slightly.

“Not really. We’re in Chicago, long story.”

“What?! Okay, I don’t even want to know how, or why.”

Loki was still gaping, unsure whether he was more shocked that Rhodey knew and hadn’t said a word to anyone else, or that Tony had actually told him and Rhodey had just accepted Loki to the point of being willing to collaborate rather than dissuade.

“What did you say to Howard? He’s so out of it he called _me_ drunk and cursing that you’d left your phone on his desk and fallen off the fucking grid. I didn’t even _know_ this phone contact existed until I searched my phone for your contact, on the off chance I had one of your older phone numbers that might have a chance of being still active, or maybe that you’d given to Pepper since I thought you might be laying low at her place.”

Tony grimaced. “Seriously?”

“You’ve gone there to sulk before, even after the breakup.”

“To watch crappy romantic comedies and drink a lot of wine and talk shit about other people, not to deal with almost dying because of _Obadiah Stane_ and a bunch of fucked-in-the-head terrorists,” Tony said flatly. “Even if I weren’t in a relationship with the ideal person to help me come back from this, so far as I see it, I wouldn’t burden her with that and you know it.”

Rhodey fell silent.

Loki’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click of teeth, and he swallowed tightly, looking awed.

“Sorry, Rhodey, look... Howard and I both said a lot of really horrible things to each other, and I regret maybe two of them, tops. Let him know I’m okay, that you spoke to me, but don’t give him this number. Tell him I called you from a pay phone, but tell him an hour from now. I’ll need time to fix your phone records to support that claim.”

“You’re a scary dude, sometimes, Tony.”

“I know.”

“Let Loki take care of you, then, if that’s what you need. And it’s okay, if it is. He makes you happy, and I’d be an idiot to try and deny I could see that clear as day, at this point. Also, if he’s listening, I’ll kill him if he ever gets you hurt.”

“Duly noted, Mr. Rhodes,” Loki intoned gravely.

“Fuck! He sounds exactly the same! And why do you never _tell me_ when I’m on _speaker_ , you bastard?!”

Tony chuckled softly. “Thanks, Rhodey. You’re a life-saver.”

“Be safe, you asshole.”

“I’m safe here.”

Rhodey hesitated, but then let out a relieved sigh. “Good. Good. Bye.”

“Bye.”

 _Click_.

He handed Loki back his phone.

The trickster sent two concise texts almost immediately, and set it aside. “Consider the phone records modified,” he said simply.

“You’re so hot when you’re all well-connected-spymaster and everything.”

Loki smirked, but it faded as he rested a hand over the reactor in Tony’s chest. “You wanted to replace this?”

“Yeah. Hang on.” Tony slid off the bed to dig in a large duffle-bag, pulling out a squarish metal case the size of a tackle-box, and opening it. A bright blue glow lit his face, and he pulled a shining new reactor out, eyeing it with satisfaction. “A significant improvement over the original. Sturdier, less uncomfortable, better self-cooling system, and more powerful, too.” He sat on the bed beside Loki, and placed it in his hands. “I’ll need to lie back, probably.

Loki nodded, and sat up, as Tony removed his shirt.

The teacher’s eyes widened a little at the sight of the device in his lover’s chest. He didn’t flinch from it, but his brows furrowed in concern. “Beautiful as your work is, I didn’t think your chest in need of any modification.”

“I know, honey, but that was before a bunch of small bits of metal shrapnel embedded in my chest, threatening to sink into my heart,” Tony said quietly.

Loki shot him a horrified look. “No.”

“The ironic part is I saw the explosive before it went off. One of mine.” He winced. “Despite everything, he still sold them hundreds and thousands of my designs. So many innocent people are dead, because I couldn’t keep some particularly murderous and destructive ideas to myself.”

“Tony,” the teacher said sharply. “We did all that we could to stop it.”

“Eventually, yeah. Before that, I just, you know, blindly trusted him to be a decent human being and not arm war criminals with arsenals fit for mass slaughter,”  Tony hissed. “You might think _you’re_ a monster, Loki, but I’ve kind of spent the past five years dreaming up new machines to destroy human life, and it was fun, for me. I was so proud of it. Obie was so damn proud, it felt––” He cut off eyes snapping shut. “I was willing to do that, for love and approval. I was so willing. I enjoyed it that much, and now I just feel sick that I let him do that.” He grabbed Loki’s face then, hissing urgently, “That’s why I need you, more than ever, please don’t let me do that again. I’m so afraid I’ll fall for it, but I know I can trust you not to let me, not to let either of us, like you trust me to stop you, I want you to promise me you won’t let me be so blind, that you’ll tell me just like you did with Obie. So many people are dead because he used me like that-” he choked.

Loki gripped the back of his neck firmly. “I promise, my pet, to keep you good as you can. You want to be good for me, as I want to be good to you, and love you, and protect you as you protect those you love too.”

“Like you,” Tony reminded.

“We protect each other, Pet. There is no shame in that: only danger, for enemies who make the mistake of believing we are ever truly alone.”

The teenager whimpered. “Thank you,” he hissed.

“Ah-ah,” Loki scolded gently.

“I love you, I mean,” Tony corrected, with a hint of an utterly smitten smile tugging at his lips.

“Good,” Loki approved. “For you are mine, Tony, as I am very much yours.”

“Good. Let’s keep me operational, then.” Tony reached down and twisted the arc reactor in his chest until it turned and released, and he could lifted it up slightly. “I can’t get the right angle, with my own hands, that I need to get at a bit of exposed wire under here.” He disconnected the original arc reactor and set it aside. “Can you reach in there? Your long fingers are narrower than my whole hand, you see.”

Loki nodded, peering into the metal socket with clinically distant curiosity, but his lips were thin and pale. “Is that a magnet at the bottom?”

“Yeah, be careful, the wire is around it, so when you start pulling it out... yeah that’s the wire, pull gently. Don’t let it touch the the socket wall, or it causes a short kinda like Operat––OW! Like that!”

The teacher cringed a little. “Sorry.”

“S’fine, just be careful.”

“I believe it’s tugging directly on that magnet now.”

“Okay, okay,” Tony whispered. “The magnet needs to come out, there’s a newer one in the new reactor core, a more efficient design, but it’ll hurt a lot if we do it quickly, and hurt slightly more but not cause me to potentially go into cardiac arrest if we go slow. Okay?”

Loki nodded, and pulled very gently, in little testing tugs, until he felt the magnet slightly lift, making the inventor tense up. “Alright?”

Tony nodded sharply once.

Raising it millimeter by millimeter, slow as he could manage, Loki drew the magnet up and  out, frowning a little when it obviously caused the younger man intense pain, but his hands remained steady. Once it was out, he set it aside on the nightstand beside the old reactor, and raised the new one. “It goes in by twisting and catching?” he inquired softly.

Unable to speak, Tony nodded tersely. He felt Loki settled the new reactor into place and gently begin to turn it, until it caught, screwed down, and snapped into place solidly with a click he could feel in his bones. The pain in his chest alleviated almost immediately and he let out a harsh breath.

“This machine is beautiful,” Loki murmured. “You made light out of the dark, like magic, with nothing but your brilliance and whatever supplies you had in that cave, and now you have made it only brighter and more elegant.”

Blushing but pleased, Tony smiled faintly. “Yeah. I guess I did.” He sighed into another kiss from his lover, as Loki straddled his hips.

“I would ride you, if you are well enough, my love,” he purred.

Tony shuddered at the thought. He had only taken Loki a few times, more content as they usually were for the teacher to establish dominance and ownership and control to their mutual heart’s content, but he knew this was about his coming back, and reclaiming him, and being reclaimed and he kissed Loki again, less gentle, and panted, “Yes, please.”

What followed was a haze of slowly-removed clothing, passionate making out, and hands everywhere, as they both re-mapped each other for reassurance. Then Tony found himself being rolled to the middle of the bed, as soon as Loki had pulled lube and a condom from his briefcase where it rested open atop the opposite nightstand. Then Loki was kissing down his lover’s body slowly, teasing and marking as much skin as he could reach, paying no heed to how conspicuously visible the resulting marks might be, later. He wanted people to know Tony was _taken_ and _owned_.

Tony rocked up against him, and felt his breath catch when Loki took hold of his hand and poured slick lube over his fingers.

“Prepare me for you, Pet,” Loki commanded. “Please me.”

Tony shuddered and slipped a single finger between the cheeks of Loki’s ass, stroking at first, swirling a bit over the older man’s hole and hearing Loki inhale sharply in response. He took his time, slow and leisurely except when Loki commanded him to be otherwise for a while, to thrust deeper and grind harder against the spot that made the teacher’s spine go bolt-straight and a raggedly pleased sound to sing up from deep in his chest. When Loki began to grind against his hand, Tony whined and almost came then and there, but Loki knew him too well, reaching down between them to grip the base of Tony’s cock _too hard_ , making him cry out, and pushing his climax back so fast the teenager couldn’t help but whine: a sound that only increased as Loki then pulled Tony’s fingers out of himself, though the sound cut off sharply at the feel of a condom being deftly applied to the younger man’s cock, and lubricant slicking him shortly after.

Without further warning, then, Loki settled over him and lowered his hips, slow but hard, forcing himself down onto Tony’s cock with a low, indecent moan to match the hissing gasp the younger man made at the feel of him.

After a few moments to adjust, grinding down a little in the process, Loki pushed himself up, slowly and then thrust himself back down hard, making them both cry out softly. “Keep up with me now, Pet,” Loki purred, beginning to develop a punishing rhythm that Tony struggled to match with sharp upward thrusts into the tight heat of Loki’s heavier body.

Hands wandering over every inch of Loki’s skin he could reach, while the teacher leaned in again to kiss him even as the pace of their rolling hips slowly increased and little broken noises welled up in Loki’s throat, Tony felt drowned and owned and cherished and used all at once, and let himself drown in it, giving over entirely until he was aware of nothing but Loki and pleasure and the crude music of their bodies striving against each other.

“T-touch me, Pet, make me come. Mark yourself with me,” Loki moaned.

Helpless against the need to obey, the need to _make that happen_ because Loki asked him and because Tony himself wanted to be marked and owned so very badly, wanted to feel Loki’s release claim him so, the teenager curled one hand around Loki’s cock and stroked hard and fast, faster than their hips, making Loki mewl and grind with each successive downward thrust until he emitted a shattered sound like a sob, and came all at once, shuddering and giving a long whine that stuttered with Tony’s continued thrusts as the teenager stubbornly rode him through it.

“Come for me, give me yourself, let me feel it,” the teacher demanded.

Tony thrust harder, then, admiring the lines of Loki’s throat as the green-eyed man’s head fell back and left the pale column of skin so exposed that Tony couldn’t help but pull him down close as he arched himself up to bite it, and thrust a little harder, a little deeper, making Loki tremble and gasp just before Tony lost himself fully, whimpering as the older man’s internal muscles squeezed around him, milking him, as he slowly pulled out. Tony almost melted when Loki then kissed the top of his head with pure affection and panted, “Good pet, my beloved, my Tony, how perfect you are to me.”

 

~~

 

The next day, Pepper called Loki’s phone.

As she saw it, she called a mysterious number that she found while snooping through James Rhodes’ phone, marked as an emergency contact point to reach the now-hiding-from-his-father-and-the-media-both Tony Stark. So of course she called it.

She was a good friend, like that.

She didn’t expect an older male voice very much _not_ Tony to pick up; although she chided herself a bit for it, reminding herself of her friend’s recent romantic entanglements, which she still considered ridiculously unwise.

“Is that still you, Mr. Rhodes?”

“No,” Pepper choked, uneasy with how familiar that voice sounded, but unable to place it. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Ah. One moment.” The other end of the line muted.

“Tony,” Loki called, while on mute. “Pepper Potts seems to be calling from Mr. Rhodes’ phone and is very disturbed that I answered.”

A loud crash from the bathroom followed.

Just a few seconds later, Tony ran in, still dripping from the shower, wiping toothpaste off his lips. “Sorry, sorry, oh god, I should’ve known she’d look through his contacts at some point, damn, sorry.” He took the phone, and put it on speaker. “Pep?”

“Tony,” she sighed, too relieved for words. “Where the hell are you? Your father is a complete wreck. He called me in tears and drunk, begging me to find you and tell you to come home. I think he wants to apologize.”

Tony’s jaw clenched. “I’m not sure I want to hear it.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Pepper warned. “He’s your father, and he’s in a lot of pain, and if he’s this bad, I get the feeling you’re hiding somewhere with your secret lover––who sounds as familiar as I dreaded, but I can’t place him––trying to drown your sorrows in similar ways. You both have to stop this!”

“I assure you Tony hasn’t actually touched a drop of alcohol or any other recreational drugs, Miss Potts,” Loki assured dryly.

“You sure?” she asked, disbelieving.

“He has reason to be, Pep, he’s been with me the whole time.”

“Why do you sound familiar?” she demanded of Loki.

“Because we’ve known each other quite a while. You were in my class as well as he was, and seeing as I’m about to ruin my scholastic career by taking him to speak with his father about this mess with Obadiah Stane, you might as well know who I am as well,” Loki mused.

Pepper emitted a strangled squeak of sudden recognition. “Oh my _god_.”

Tony was gaping, just for a second, before suddenly anger took over as Loki’s words fully sunk in. “I’m sorry, what did you just say you planned to do?” he all but snarled, “because no fucking way. You don’t have any say in this!”

“If you will not listen to my advice when I tell you this is something you need to do for your own sake, and something I need to do for mine, I know not what you _will_ listen to and rely on me for then, outside of my bed, Mr. Stark,” Loki said coldly. “Please. Consider,” he asked, but it sounded warning more than pleading.

Tony swallowed. “I don’t need to. He deserves to-” his voice began to crack.

“Tony,” Loki said softly. “Your father is no betrayer, as my adopted one was. He is petty, he is proud, he is at times cruel and unwise when it comes to his treatment of you, and for every time he has ever lashed out at you unjustly I would love a chance to cause him equal or greater pain, but he is your father. He would never truly disown you, joke about it though we have and even hoped on occasion for as you’ve done at times, but if what she says is true, and he is doing so much damage to his own health right now, does that not make him more like ourselves than we would be comfortable turning our backs on, should he worsen?”

The teenager thought about it, breathing faster, trying not to panic, trying to shake his head, but when he opened his mouth and no sound came out, a few tears fell from his eyes and rolled down the sides of his face despite all attempts to hold them back. “I don’t know if I’m that strong,” he confessed.

“You are, Tony,” Pepper said. “I know you are.”

But Tony only shook his head. “I’m really not.” His voice trembled.

“You are, but to prove it to you, I plan to join you, once I make a few calls and formally resign. There is time enough left in the summer for the school to find a replacement for me, and it would be best if I had no more academic career or need of a good reputation in those circles, before we confront Howard.”

Tony stared at him, awestruck. “But you’ll be exposed to all the-”

“You, Tony Stark, are worth that and more, to me, and I will fight to prove that to you, so long as you might have me,” Loki assured.

“Damn,” Pepper muttered. “At first I was really considering reporting you to the police, Mr. Laufeyson, but now I’m just kind of jealous he got to have the least-creepy student-teacher affair I’ve ever heard of with the hottest teacher we’ve both ever had.”

“Damn right,” Tony growled. “Hands off, he’s mine.”

“Trust me, I got that message loud and clear, don’t worry about _that_ ,” Pepper teased lightly. “And um... Mr. Laufeyson?”

“Call me Loki. I _am_ about to resign from teaching.”

“Thank you. Thank you for being good for him.”

The soon-to-be-ex-teacher and part-time cyber-criminal blushed slightly, but smiled despite that. “I will try my best to continue to be.”

“You’d better, or I’ll skin you alive,” she shot back.

“I would probably let you,” Loki responded. “I have arrangements to make, if you don’t mind, however. For now.”

“Right. Uhm. Happy early retirement?”

Loki snorted. “Goodbye, Miss Potts.”

“Call me Pepper, since you’re dating one of my best friends,” she mocked. “Bye Tony. Bye Loki. Don’t kill anyone.”

“No promises,” Tony assured her cheerfully. “Bye, Pep.”

 _Click_.

“You really going to be with me for this?” the teenager asked softly, his voice very small as he stared up at Loki in renewed disbelief.

The spy stepped closer to him, settling an arm about his waist. “I will. My place is by your side. Without you, my life lacks music, lacks love, lacks life.” He swallowed tightly. “I’ve learned that, with you taken from me. I will not let that happen again.”

“I need to show you the armor I made.” He looked Loki up and down, then. “I should make you a suit. Something green.”

“A suit of armor?”

“Flying. Shooting. Very difficult to destroy. Sort of like having super-powers you can drive like a race-car.”

“Sounds very you,” Loki admitted.

“But you have calls to make.”

“And we should both shower and put on some semblance of semi-appropriate clothing, as well.”

“Right.” Tony exhaled heavily. “Being responsible sucks, sometimes.”

Loki kissed his forehead. “Yes, believe me, I know.”

Tony chuckled and let himself be pushed toward the shower. At least Loki would join him, and then despite how awful the rest of this day might turn out to be, wonderful things would still have happened with it.

“Oh. Lorelei is already being investigated for possible embezzlement charges.”

“I’m aware. Measures are being taken,” Loki responded.

“You’re so perfect,” the inventor sighed, grinning fondly at him over his shoulder.

 

~~

 

They had driven halfway from the airport to Howard Stark’s mansion by mid-afternoon, when Loki’s phone rang with a particularly aggressive ringtone.

“Is that the sound of wolves tearing something apart?” Tony asked, disturbed.

“Yes,” Loki said calmly, and tapped the answer button. At his lover’s pointed look, he reluctantly put it on speaker before greeting his caller with a curt, “Hello?”

“Who’s after you this time?” a familiar female voice demanded.

The ex-teacher looked amused, then. “No one, Natasha, I promise you. Not yet, in any case, since that never lasts...”

“Fine, who is _about_ to come after you?”

“I don’t know, yet. No one new that I know about.”

“Then I think you owe me an explanation. I don’t want to have to find a new hacker. The majority of you are painfully unreliable, and I have _work_ you still promised to me,” she insisted.

“That work is still in progress, Natasha. I haven’t retired from that. I resigned from the school for personal reasons.”

“What sort of personal reasons, Loki? You’re not _personal_ , everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. knows that, every one of your enemies knows it, and even the dimmest and least observant amongst the schools staff and administration know that.”

“I made an exception. He stayed. I’m keeping him.”

A long pause followed.

“I’m on speaker,” she observed, sounding offended.

“He already found out about your past career and connections before he even became romantically involved with me, darling. It was only a matter of time before he realized you never truly quit the business,” Loki riposted.

“Hey, Ms. Romanoff. My dad actually is still keeping pretty detailed files on what you’ve been up to. If you’d like, I can delete some of them, if any from the last two years make you particularly uncomfortable,” Tony offered.

A long bout of swearing in Russian followed, some of which Loki visibly grimaced at and protested, “Don’t be overly crude, Romanoff, or I’ll tell him a series of stories about Mr. Barnes and yourself just to spite you.”

“You idiot, you bastard, you mad fucking lunatic _cradle-_ robber!”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t give him that much credit,” the teenager shot back. “I seduced _him_ and it took a lot of rhetoric about consent, what I wanted, why I was interested, and all the other wonderful reasons he should let me crawl into his lap and make myself at home there, before he’d even admit to _himself_ possibly having the slightest interest, okay? If anything, he got cradle- _robbed_. Or possibly the cradle robbed him. Something like that.”

Loki chuckled helplessly at the terrible accuracy of that assessment.

“You, Mr. Stark, can kindly fuck off.”

“Not while he’s driving, I won’t. Look, Romanoff, you can accept this and move on, or I’m just going to steal your most reliable and talented hacking resource and ruin you just because I can, and don’t think I can’t,” Tony deadpanned, dangerously serious. “I can frame you for a dozen crimes without even trying very hard. I can design an intelligent viral program to infect any computer and phone-related devices around you so that they will recognize your voice the moment you speak, and end any calls you attempt to make from anything more advanced than a rotary-dialer or a pay phone. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m the kid you usually dismiss me as, because I like you, Ms. Ex-Agent Romanoff, and I don’t want to have to hurt you, but I also sure as hell won’t hesitate.”

A long silence followed.

“I think I begin to understand this the better,” the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent mused. “And I may one day even admit you two are less foolish than I first thought.”

“How kind of you to say,” Loki mock-preened.

“Okay. So why are you quitting?”

“I’m supporting my lover in going to confront his alcoholic father in the wake of the betrayals committed by Obadiah Stane, and a very nasty argument the two of them embroiled themselves in, all teeth and claws, after his return from being kidnapped in Afghanistan,” Loki explained succinctly. “I felt it best that I have no academic career for him to ruin, to prevent the whole school coming under scrutiny for scandal.”

“Holy shit, when did you develop a single decent bone in your body as generous as that?” Natasha crowed, sounding shocked but almost pleased.

“Shut up,” the ex-teacher scathed.

“He’s only ever been good to me. Maybe you just don’t know how to handle him, Romanoff,” Tony teased.

“Ugh. You’re a terrible kid, Stark.”

“All the better reason for you to go away,” he countered.

“Tony,” Loki chided lightly.

“He has a point. I have my answer. You’re both insane. Tony, please delete the ‘Hospital Fire’ incident, but save me a copy of it, first. I want to make amends, for that one, and for that I need all the records I can get, of survivors, to improve their lives in what ways I can manage to.”

Tony made a thoughtful sound. “I can do that.”

“Thank you,” she said, light and surprisingly sincere. “Goodbye.”

 _Click_.

For several long minutes, Tony stared questioningly at his lover.

Loki tried to ignore it, and failed. “What?” he sighed.

“You ever have sex with her? Just out of curiosity?”

“Once, before I met you, actually,” the older man conceded. “She was trying to get information out of me, and I was trying to figure out who had hired her.”

Tony whistled, impressed. “She good?”

“We are both inclined to be very dominant, and also quite unyielding. If I were more fond of bar brawls with elements of burlesque, I suppose she might be the ideal woman, but I prefer not actually cracking ribs during sex.”

The teenager sniggered helplessly. “Seriously?”

“She’s a former assassin. She’s killed men with only her thighs. I’m _very_ serious.”

Tony laughed about that off and on for most of the rest of the drive.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard Stark is confronted by someone very important in his son's life. Being annoyed at Loki for how inexplicable he finds the spy's presence to be, given he is only unaware because of his chronic minimal involvement in his son's life beyond keeping him in school, might just be a way to make Loki more angry with him.
> 
> Shouting ensues.

The mansion was deathly quiet, when Jarvis let them in.

“How is he, Jarv?” Tony asked, as the door shut behind him and the butler eyed his guest with some confusion. “By the way, this is my boyfriend Loki Laufeyson.” The words slipped out easily enough it was almost like his heart didn’t skip and his throat almost compressed around the words, disbelieving that it could be safe to finally say it. “Loki, this is Edwin Jarvis.”

“I’ve heard much about you,” Loki said, reaching out to shake the other man’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ve heard of you as well, I had thought, but I’m no longer certain,” Jarvis said.

“It’s a long story,” Tony said hastily. “Very long story.”

“He seduced me a few months ago, and I resigned from the teaching profession as of this morning,” the spy cut in blithely, not missing how his lover blushed a deeper scarlet than he’d ever seen before, sputtering incoherently. “I understand Mr. Howard Stark is not well, and is worried about his son’s health and whereabouts. I’m hoping we can clear the air and dissuade him from much further self-abuse, inasmuch as possible.”

“You’re a braver man than I, if you approach him so... openly, in his current state,” Jarvis warned as politely as possible.

Loki’s smile was as charming as it was sharp, and even sharper than it was devilish, which was quite a bit. “I am accustomed to people who are comparable to maelstroms in their ire.”

“You’re doing the shakespearean thing again,” Tony pointed out.

The older man rolled his eyes. “I’m aware.”

“Just making sure.”

Jarvis looked between the two of them and seemed to half-smile reluctantly at what he could read between them. “I’ll take you to Howard, then. He was sedate, last I saw, but conscious and mostly lucid; although more of his bar has emptied since then, not enough to suggest he might be beyond communication.”

Loki nodded at the butler, feeling a little heartened at the implication that this man, whom Tony cared for and respected as much as his own father (without the same fear and hesitation and anger worn into him over time where Howard Stark was concerned) did not disapprove of him so far. While Jarvis still seemed a little wary of him, as was only practical, the chemistry between Loki and the younger Stark––even just from that small hint of banter showing them comfortably attuned to one another’s quirks and how unhesitant Tony was in mocking him, as well as how amused and pleased Loki was in response to it––seemed to reassure the young inventor’s lifelong caretaker. Perhaps, Loki mused, it was obvious enough for someone who knew Tony as well as Jarvis did, that Tony himself had all the control he wanted, and Loki would happily give it.

It was a thought he had visited many times, privately, in considering his current plans, and it became a nervous itch in his mind as Jarvis led them through the halls, toward Howard Stark’s private laboratory.

He was going to look one of history’s greatest industrialists in the eye––a veritable mascot for the very spirit of futurism and an icon for other men everywhere; a man who invented powerful weaponry and made vast amounts of money off of government contracts to supply whole armies; a war veteran of a sort, and yet also an alcoholic with occasional anger-management issues, who had trouble connecting with his son ever since the tragic accidental death of his wife––and inform him that his barely-eighteen-year-old son, ten years Loki’s junior and his _former student_ , had been sharing his bed for some time now, and wanted to continue to do so, as well as probably  pursue bringing their romantic relationship out from behind locked doors, so that they could be affectionate in public without nearly so much hesitation.

The spy let the fear soak up through his entire body and out his pores, steeped himself in it, and exhaled a deep breath slowly, letting his mind clear. Fear always felt and tasted so familiar, like an old friend, and the prospect of imminent death provided him a vividness of intent focus unlike anything else. He operated at his peak under such conditions, unlike most, and so he did not shiver, did not shake, did not hesitate with any single step; although when he saw his lover’s hands trembling, he wrapped one of his own about Tony’s fingers.

Tony took hold in return, squeezing, and smiled a little when Loki responded by entwining their fingers and squeezing back. He realized, recalling Loki’s words–– _to prove it to you, I plan to join you_ ––that he wasn’t pulling strength from the older man, but instead remembering his own strength from times he’d fought to keep this man in his life, sometimes against Loki’s own fears, sometimes against his own, more often against mutual enemies they both shared. Tony remembered, all at once, all he had done to win Loki over, such that the spy/former-god had followed him here, with such purpose and determined fearlessness that he would carry them both if Tony merely asked it of him, or needed that help.

At that thought, all the fearful scenes––the what-if’s that played through his head, a dozen every minute for every possible way this could go wrong and every horrible thing Howard might say, how crushing Howard’s disappointment would be and what Loki might think of him after seeing Tony let it crumble him down to nothing during or after––those all faded in relevance, somehow. If Howard Stark couldn’t see the value and the outright _marvelousness_ that was Loki Laufeyson, and how no one could make his son happier, then that would just be the most damning evidence yet that Howard Stark might have serious problems judging worthiness altogether.

That made Tony feel genuinely safe from his father’s too-sharp, too-harsh judgements when it came to his son’s shortcomings, for the first time in a very long while.

“Shall I accompany you both?” Jarvis asked gently, once they stood just outside the door to the lab. He looked slightly worried for them.

“Thank you, but he’d only see you as approving of us, and thus a target, or he’d try to turn you on us,” Tony said. “I’d prefer you out of the crossfire, this time. We’ll be fine.” He wished he sounded more certain, and when Loki’s shoulder bumped his, he leaned a bit into the extra contact. “Really, we will,” he added, sounding firmer this time.

Loki knew more than he wanted to about the tactics Tony alluded to, and the way they spoke of them––as though it were a familiar matter, common even––made a muscle near the corner of his jaw twitch. He knew Jarvis noticed it, and schooled his expression into a politely smooth mask. “It might be best to inform him that Tony is here with a guest; however, I would recommend not mentioning my name.”

“He will notice,” the butler pointed out.

“Let him,” said the spy, with a little hint of amusement at the thought.

Jarvis nodded, dryly amused himself perhaps, though it was hard to tell before he turned away, and knocked on the door. When Howard called, the butler slipped into the room, but the door did not quite swing shut: a sliver was left open, just enough to allow those behind him to comfortably eavesdrop.

Suddenly, Loki understood just why Tony got along so very, very well with this man, and nodded in silent approval.

“Mr. Stark?”

“You sound almost hopeful. I’m guessing we have a guest?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And it’s Anthony?”

“Yes, and-”

“Send him in.” He sounded only a little slurred, and as much morose as frustrated and irritable, but the tone still made his son, on the other side of the lab door, tense.

“He is not alone, sir, as I was trying to say.”

“Oh, he bring one of his friends? Which?” A pause, probably due to the butler hesitating for a moment. “Or is it both?”

“Neither Miss Potts nor Mr. Rhodes, sir.”

A creak, from the inventor’s chair pivoting more toward the other man. “Eh?”

“They would both speak with you, if you’re willing to see them.”

“Does the guest get a name?”

“He requested to introduce himself.”

“Jarvis. Why am I suddenly feeling cornered?”

“I would recommend against anything rash, Mr. Stark,” Jarvis said calmly. “Tony is unharmed, and has clearly slept and eaten better than you yourself have in the past days. He looks himself, as he did not, from the time we found him in Afghanistan, to his arrival back home, and given his stubbornness and certain of his tendencies are like unto your own, I am impressed by this.”

“You’re welcome to let them in, and please stay out of this from here on.”

“I promise nothing of the sort, sir, but I’ll leave your son and his guest to you.”

On the other side of the door, Tony felt his heart beating so fast it fluttered at his throat like that of a trapped bird’s. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. You’re doing this. We’re doing this. You and I are doing this for us and you’re with me, here, now and this is about to happen, and I feel like everything is going to go wrong, but you never let that happen and I can’t... I can’t believe this is happening.”

Loki pulled him a little closer, and kissed his temple. “Believe it, my love,” he said softly, full of affection and wonder. He squeezed Tony’s hand once more in his own, and gently released his hold just before Jarvis reappeared in the doorway, facing them and looking like he was seeing a couple of fellow soldiers on their way into no-man’s land.

“You gentlemen have my best wishes, and my respect.” He rested a hand on Tony’s shoulder and squeezed. “Be well. I will be but a call away.”

“Thank you,” Tony said, resting a hand over his old friend’s and squeezing, before letting go and stepping past him, taking a deep breath as he strode through the door first; although Loki remained close enough behind him that he could sense the older man’s warmth, and the way the air stirred between them as they walked: things he had learned to cherish when touching was a luxury he could only afford to indulge in behind closed and locked doors.

Howard was at his main drafting table, which was strewn with blueprints on paper because he insisted that it was easier for him to sketch things out upon them, after years of habit, than the holographic interfaces Tony had come up with, and used more regularly. Perhaps it was, for the earliest stages of his ideas; he did use Tony’s interfaces for the latter design stages: fine-tuning and color and texture and such.

Tony still secretly considered it ridiculous.

Among the papers were several empty scotch bottles (probably collected slowly over the past twenty-four hours) and one two-thirds empty one (more likely consumed within the past few hours) as well as Howard Stark himself, who looked pale, and haggard, with dark circles under his eyes, which were mournful with regret at first, then livid with anger before he ran a hand through his hair and took a breath in some vain attempt to compose himself, despite his rumpled and slightly liquor- and oil-stained shirt and slacks, clearly worn for at least the past forty-eight hours straight as he tried to distract himself from his most recent array of personal mistakes.

Recognition lit his face once he caught sight of Loki and squinted for a moment, searching for the name and dossier in his memory, to match the face. “You’re... _Laufeyson_ , right?”

Loki nodded. “Yes. Loki Laufeyson.”

Howard blinked a few times rapidly, beyond perplexed. “What the fuck are you doing here with my son?”

Tony opened his mouth, clearly was faced with several unwise options by his own scattered thoughts, and shut it with an audible click.

Loki, however, was looking predatory and _livid_. “I am here, Mr. Stark, because I wanted to look you in the eye, and ask how you dare be offended that you don’t know someone in your son’s life of significant enough importance to him that I would be permitted to accompany him here now, when you imagine what the look on Tony’s face was, when I found him waiting for me after he fled from your home.”

Howard’s entire posture changed, from casual and confident and righteously perturbed, to tensed as if recovering from a blow and too shocked to find enough rage to respond with equal vitriol. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Loki hesitated, and looked to Tony, clearly asking permission to continue in this chosen vein, or if Tony would prefer to ask him to withhold a bit more venom than unleash, perhaps?

Tony stared back at him, a bit stunned. “Admittedly, I’m now really curious where you’re going with that, exactly?” he said quietly.

Considering his response for a moment, Loki nodded, and turned to face the elder inventor again. He stepped two long strides closer to Howard Stark, covering half the distance between the door, and the older inventor’s desk, and thus also between the other man and Tony. “Consider for a moment, that I am here. You know of my side business, you also know where S.H.I.E.L.D. keeps me hidden, and perhaps even approved, given my own status and the character people at the school believed me to be of, of their keeping me in the same school which was meant to keep your son safe, as well as the likes of me. You know nothing of what he has ever said to me, Mr. Stark. And I know an awful lot of what you have said to him, among other things.”

Howard seemed incredulous. “Tony, did you have to go so low as to involve your _teacher_ against me? How? What on _earth_ did you tell him?”

“Truth,” Tony said. “Kind of a lot of it.”

“But I haven’t––I’m sorry I ever did, the few times I did hurt you physically, and I regret that more than anything, Tony-”

“I know, we went over that in actual therapy sessions for a year after, I got the point on that one,” his son interrupted, almost habitually. “That’s not what he’s mad about, or why he’s involved.”

“I’m not a casually offended bystander, Mr. Stark. I care, and I actually took the time to get to know your son in the past three years during which he has been forcing me to collaborate with other teachers I would rather have nothing to do with, in order to come up with an entirely separate homework curriculum for him in multiple classes, so that it would stand any chance of holding enough of his interest to actually get him to _do_ the homework. Also, I might have some very personal feelings of my own about paternal figures like you. Pardon me, but I think we both need this clearing of the air here, to be perfectly frank, but I digress. First, let us get back to part where he has a lover you don’t know about.”

Tony gaped at him, clearly stunned beyond speech for a few brief moments.

Those moments were damning, and furthermore gave Howard time to react. “He what? I mean, that’s not exactly shocking. Last I heard, he had a variety of them.”

“But few of them for months at a time, let alone with plans for the future. I daresay you are looking at a minor PR nightmare ahead of you,” Loki explained further, looking apologetic.

Quietly, staring between the two of them, Tony Stark concluded that he had chosen the best possible person to pursue an ill-advised relationship with.

“Tony, do I even want to know where this is going?” Howard sighed.

“How do you feel about me being in a relationship with a man?” Tony asked.

His father considered. “I’m not going to––you’ll still be my son, dammit, I was a fool if I ever suggested otherwise when I was at my worst, but it wouldn’t change anything. I’ve known for a while at this point that you play any field you feel that you stand a chance in, gender being an irrelevant factor in your selection for a given evening. It’s just who you are, and whoever you’re involved with, I’d at least take the time to get to know, if you––feel very seriously about them.” He sounded uncomfortable, but not damning, which was a nice change of pace.

“Funny, last time you said I’d be doing something like besmirching the family legacy,” Tony recalled brightly, offering a condescending hand gesture, “ _assuming I planned to carry it_ , which honestly is still up for debate, but Pepper did sort of awkwardly assure me that if you did anything like make that an inheritance clause or anything, she’d volunteer to be our surrogate, but we were pretty drunk so I’m mostly sure she was joking, _probably_. Thanks for that whole speech, by the way, and how clear you made it that you cared about my feelings and people I might be able to fall in love with, _less_ than you care about my capability to reproduce, which I might not actually want to do, and it’s not dependent upon the person I’m in a relationship with being the pregnant one, based on love, trust, and other prudent factors.”

Howard stared at him in mild horror. “You really _are_ in love with a _man_ ,” he said, with resignation and a little awe. “I’ll be damned.”

“Not for that, you won’t,” Loki assured. When the older inventor looked at him oddly, the spy patted his arm and added, “Not by me, in any case, sir; I’m atheist and queer as a football bat.”

Tony managed, just barely, not to emit a hysterical giggle.

Howard nodded at him a bit hesitantly. “Okay, then...”

“Mr. Stark, this is a, ah, slightly older man,” Loki explained delicately.

The older inventor’s eyes widened a fraction. “How.. _much_ older?”

A cough followed. “About ten years,” his son said quietly.

“ _What?!_ ” Howard barked.

“Woah, woah, dad, stop,” Tony said, suddenly the more confident for this mild farce Loki had constructed. “It’s not like it sounds. I seduced him very deliberately. He was like my uninterested Socrates until I sort of, got really seriously interested, in all sorts of things involving him, and about him, and sort of upped the persuasion.”

“Are you kidding me, Tony? If you are having me on-” Howard warned.

“I’m not,” the younger inventor said, gentle and brittlely honest. “I’m seriously in love with this guy. I... I really am, dad.” He widened his deep brown eyes and let himself be as sincere as he felt.

His father was not prepared for that, and was prevented from stumbling and falling backwards under the combined effects of acute psychological shock and moderate intoxication only by Loki catching hold of his arms and reminding himself how his own knees were meant to work. The spy himself seemed a bit caught off-guard for a moment, too, swallowing tightly.

Howard then clapped him on the shoulder gratefully for the save, and both the former teacher, and Tony just barely managed to keep straight faces.

“Okay,” the older inventor said. “Okay.” He ran his hands over his face as though forcing bad thoughts out of his head, especially along the lines of images his poor abused mind’s eye could never unsee. “You said PR would be a wreck, and you might be right, unless, perhaps, this person is photogenic?”

Tony snorted and choked on a sputtering laugh. “That’s seriously your question?”

“Just assure me you aren’t into bears or something?” Howard sighed, in a high, reluctant pitch. “I personally don’t care, but I do not look forward to those interview questions at _all_.”

His son emitted a noise beyond all description somehow combining infinite horror and infinite amusement at that inquiry. “Dad, please, I never even needed to know you knew that term in this context, so please never utter that again.”

“Well, I don’t _think_ so,” Loki mused airily. “I mean, for example, do _I_ look like the definition of ‘bear’ to you, by _any_ stretch of the imagination?” He gestured toward himself, making the ‘I’ sound as impersonal as possible, like he was suggesting someone who looked like himself overall.

“Uh, no,” the older inventor dismissed instantly, then paused, seeming to come to a deeply offensive conclusion, and fixed his gaze very pointedly back on Loki. He didn’t look at all pleased.

The spy raised both eyebrows curiously, like he had no idea what could possibly be the matter with a thing he’d said.

Howard almost dismissed it, but there was something about Tony’s demeanor, in relation to this older man’s, this _teacher’s_ , manner, that struck him as too elegantly open for suggestion. “Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Oh, don’t call me that. It will remind me of the profession I’ve just retired from.”

The older inventor went very, very still. “Retired.”

“Oh yes, at the very beginning of the summer,” Loki lied shamelessly, and with perfectly serene, self-assured sincerity.

Tony marveled a little further, and wished he could get away with filming this.

Howard rested his hands on his hips and cocked his head slightly to one side. “Drop the game, whatever it is. Just drop it. I can see it on both of you.”

“That would be because I’m your son’s lover,” Loki expounded casually, as though explaining why he had been slightly late to a dinner party. He responded with perfectly casual, reflexive ease––garnered, whether he knew it or not, from centuries of practice stored within the memory of his entire nervous system, after all that time––when the older man threw a punch at him. He caught and deflected the fist, pivoting his whole body as he seized Howard’s other arm, too, tugging perfectly to off-set his balance, and send him to the floor in one swift, non-bone-breaking movement, intended to pacify, rather than damage.

Howard Stark’s chest hit the floor just shortly before the rest of him, so the breath was knocked out of him but the rest of him didn’t seem to land quite so sharply, tugged back ever so slightly to counter the force at the end. It was a dangerous degree of control not common among most normal humans, in Howard’s experience, and he stilled. “What even _are_ you, exactly?” he asked, only half-sincere.

Loki hummed, considering. “I am a man deeply in love with Tony Stark, somewhat against my better judgement. I am dangerous, but devoted, and I have not harmed you... yet.”

“Maybe tone it back a bit?” the younger inventor interjected. “That was a little violent, Lokes.”

“I was as gentle as I could manage,” the spy assured, only a little petulant.

Tony shot him a look.

Loki sighed, but stopped, releasing his hold on the older man and taking a respectful step back. “My apologies,” he said.

Howard rolled over onto his back and stared between the two of them incredulously. “What?”

“What? I thought he went a bit far, dad. It doesn’t mean I disagree with the sentiment, or anything.”

His father considered it, then hesitated. “I did feel about the same way, at your age.”

“I’m eighteen, dad, not sixteen.”

“Close enough. I’m not arguing anything age-related with you right now.” He glared a bit at Loki and pointed a finger at him accusingly. “I don’t like you.”

“Well, I did just sort of hurl you to the ground after admitting to a serious romantic relationship with your son, so honestly, I don’t blame you,” the spy assured.

“What the hell is wrong with you, by the way?” Howard groaned. “He’s how much younger than you? Have you no decency?”

“More than **I** did,” Tony cut in loudly.

His father winced and shot him a glare. “Will you stop that?”

“Nope.”

“Would it help if I added that I know where Obadiah Stane will be in approximately four days and eight hours’ time?” Loki added. “I do have contacts with connections to both the Hand, and the Ten Rings, and one of them has put the most interesting requests for people of my skill-set out there just this morning. Tony and I then managed to trace the person who responded to him and was brought on for the job, and found all the other details necessary.”

Howard looked at Loki very sharply again, this time interested. “Where?”

“You _are_ interested in collaboration, then, Mr. Stark? I wouldn’t want to go above my chain of command, now that I no longer have a _protected_ position such as the one I occupied at the school.”

“You have never been of a security level high enough to know I’m anywhere in that chain,” Howard said sharply.

“Yes, but I’m also dating Tony. We do _chat_ , as well, you know.”

“I can find a way to kill you,” the older man warned.

“Oh, I’m certain, but whether you can find me when the day comes to implement it is another matter entirely,” Loki responded sweetly.

“Tony, try again, and bring back one that’s more easily intimidated,” Howard commanded suddenly, with conviction.

His son snorted. “Not a fuckin’ chance.”

Loki grinned in a slightly fierce manner in response to that.

“I need to have separate conversations with both of you people, and threaten your lives a bit, but you need to humor me long enough for me to finish the threats, at least. For the mean time, I need something else to focus on, like decimating Obadiah’s face a bit before handing him over to police.”

“Wait, I’m not allowed to kill him?” the spy asked, sounding genuinely put out.

“Are you sure you’re one of the good guys? You’re awfully enthusiastic about murder,” Howard inquired lightly.

Loki raised a hand flat and wobbled it side-to-side in an ‘it depends’ sort of gesture, one corner of his mouth tugging down momentarily.

“Noted,” the older inventor said. “Another one like Romanoff. Great,” he sighed. “As long as you actually _age_. I refuse to accept any other immortals around unless someone finds Steve Rogers alive and well among an Inuit community with amnesia or something, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” the spy remarked coolly.

“Also, I’m still deeply uncomfortable that Tony vanished into your company for the past few days.”

“I needed him,” Tony said firmly.

Howard shot his son a moderately incredulous look and was surprised by the seriousness and muted pain in the younger man’s expression. He nodded slowly. “Next time, take your phone.”

“I didn’t want you to find me, dad.”

“Then hack what you need for that, but don’t be completely out of reach and unable to let me know it’s _intentional_ ,” his father insisted.

Tony sighed. “Fine, fine. Okay. I will.”

“I’ll also provide my contact information,” the spy conceded.

“Right, fine.  Now I just have someone else’s career to work over. Excellent. My only satisfaction will be seeing you try not to panic in the face of an enthusiastic crowd of paparazzi knowing how widely broadcast your face is going to be. _Globally_.”

Loki actually blanched a bit at the thought.

“Aw, shit, you pissed someone off before the convenient amnesia, didn’t you? Of course you did. This is the third time I’ve seen this look on someone’s face; you’d think I’d have learned, by now.”

“Well, actually, it’s more likely I pissed them off _afterward_ by successfully dropping off of his radar,” the spy admitted, “which will be almost impossible to maintain, now, given a certain amount of time and how inexorable Thor’s return to look for me is likely to be, once Odin lets him know that instead of returning as expected, I’ve simply vanished.” He blinked a bit quickly at that realization. “That said, I... I believe that I can deal with that.”

“You can?” Tony asked, a bit disconcerted.

“I’m not the brother he knows or expects,” Loki said slowly, realization dawning. This wasn’t some old memories slipping free in convenient doses, as it had usually seemed. The information came to raw and ragged, like it had broken off. He had a sense of being watched and tried to shake it off. “He might even trust me.” His voice sounded very faint.

“Oh, _this_ is what you meant about your ‘personal feelings’,” Howard mused. “Why does the name ‘Thor’ ring a bell?”

Tony named a date just barely nine years ago.

The older inventor looked disturbed. “Those were actual aliens.” He looked sharply at Loki suddenly. “Your _brother_?!”

“I’m actually very human at present; it’s a part of my sentence I’ve become all sort of fond of, and disinclined to be rid of with much haste. I can explain that to you after I consume more alcohol than you should consume so much as a third of, for the sake of that conversation being both sincere, and not likely to damage either of us overmuch,” Loki explained succinctly.

“And now space-vikings think being human is a _punishment_ , great. This explains the damned cube and Hydra, I swear.”

“The what?” Loki asked, a bit too sharply.

Howard took a step backward. “You’re suddenly keen.”

“I am,” the spy considered, sounding uneasy. “I don’t know why. It is probably best for now that I don’t know.”

The older inventor’s eyebrows raised, showing him to be reluctantly impressed. “Really? You’d be fine with that?”

“No, it will drive me quietly mad, but in the most containable sort of way possible,” Loki sighed, reluctantly sincere.

After considering that response, Howard shrugged. “That’s the best most of us can hope for. Welcome to planet earth.”

The former-god blinked, realizing that he never had been quite welcomed, in any formal way. People who needed someone of his skill-set had been welcoming, as had other teachers and students over the past few years, and Tony, but not quite like this. It sent a strange shudder through the spell-work that was meant to be keeping him human, and Loki wasn’t at all sure what effect that actually had: something subtle, something unexpected. “Thank you,” he said lightly, but not without a hint of actual gratitude, for whatever it was.

“You stay good to him, or I will make your life more painful than you can even begin to imagine, and I’ll do it without an ounce of regret,” the older inventor added, just too quietly for his son to hear.

“Thus love does make sociopaths of us all,” Loki countered, just a little quieter.

Howard mimicked Loki’s ‘it depends’ gesture and expression from earlier.

Loki quirked a half-smile despite himself.

“I now feel left out,” Tony said. “Audible words, please.”

His father shot him an interested look. “You’ve gotten demanding.”

“The price of listening to his needs,” Loki responded, in cool and flippant tones, smiling beatifically at his lover.

Howard shot him an incredulous look. “You fight dirty, jeezus, man.”  
“I do, because I plan to remind you of all such failings, in detail, until you’ve apologized for every one of them severe enough for him to recount to me,” Loki promised, grinning again in a way that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Will you actually omit ones you can tell aren’t that serious?” Tony asked sharply, sounding a bit warning.

The spy sighed. “Fine, yes, I promise that I will.”

Looking between the two of them, the older inventor looked suddenly wary of what their combined powers might be capable of, in time. “I am suddenly disturbed by the idea of any son of mine being someone’s moral compass.”

The spy hummed, appreciative and amused, eyeing Tony as he did so. “You did fine work, for one such as me to appreciate. That said, I was a god. Those are high standards he’s met, keep in mind. You should be quite proud.”

Tony blushed visibly.

And Howard, despite his reservations, could see the mixed adoration, reluctance, and pure affection in his son’s expression when he sent a pointed look the green-eyed man’s way. There was far too much on display, there, that Howard found novel, as was fit to humble him. Loki’s expression in response was openly warm and pleased in a manner not-quite-innocent-enough to pass for appropriate.

The tabloids were going to devour them, he realized.

It was clear, at least, that despite his reservations, Loki was very photogenic.

“You’re both insane,” Howard sighed. “I’m going to shower, and you should ask Jarvis to order lunch, and we’re going to plan how to capture Obadiah without murdering him, if we can help it, which honestly we might not be able to.”

“Sounds good to me,” Tony concurred, and Loki nodded as well, as Howard turned on his heel, headed for the door.

“Do _not_ have sex in my lab again, Anthony Stark,” the older inventor called over his shoulder, as an afterthought.

“That was only _one time_ and _not my idea_!” his son called back reflexively, as the door snapped shut behind Howard.

Loki chuckled softly despite himself, but his amusement died quickly as he saw Tony’s expression shift from reflexive cattiness to dawning horror, as all of the adrenaline in his system seemed amplified, without a locus of anger and rebellion like Howard Stark to focus upon.

“Breathe, Tony,” the spy reminded him gently, stepping closer to him.

The younger man reached out and gripped his lover’s arm to steady himself even as he muttered, a little defensively, “I’m not gonna faint or anything.”

“You’re very pale.”

“I’m having post-adrenaline anxiety, a bit. You’re lucky he only tried to punch you and didn’t pull a gun or something, Jesus, Loki.”

“I could’ve disarmed him fairly easily. He’s got good reflexes, but not much in the way of training for that sort of thing, I can tell.”

“I sort of got the impression you were more expert in that area when you took him to the ground, yeah,” Tony said.

The spy looked a little sheepish. “Sorry if I went at all over the line…”

 “You stopped when I asked. That means enough. It showed him how we… are.” He gestured between them illustratively. “That you listen to me, and don’t ever do something I tell you that I _don’t want_ you to do. It was good, that he had a couple of chances to really see that clearly, I think.”

“It was,” Loki agreed.

“Also you’re a genius for playing up the teacher angle like that, and then just dropping it. I will cherish the memory of the looks that flickered across his face in those few minutes for the rest of my life,” Tony sighed. “That, Loki, was fucking _art_.”

With a theatrical bow, from the waist, the spy said simply, “I live to entertain.”

“When he patted your shoulder, I nearly died.”

“Me too,” Loki admitted, straightening again. He smiled further when Tony took hold of his wrists and tugged them, positioning the taller man’s arms about his waist, which Loki was content to oblige, dragging them closer together. “I didn’t do anything unforgivable, you think?”

“Nah,” Tony assured. “This went… way better than I expected, actually.” He ducked his head slightly. “I was braced for that legacy thing, I really was.”

“As was I, based on your concerns about it in the past.”

“That was one of the first really serious conversations we had, wasn’t it? After that’d happened,” he murmured. They had been sitting in companionable silence in their usual smoking spot, save for Tony buzzing like a live-wire of insecurity and asking suddenly out of the blue if the teacher was straight. Loki had calmly informed him that he was pansexual, if anything, and Tony had unloaded the whole conversation with his father after the first time Howard had caught him with another boy.

“Yes, it was.” Resting his brow against the inventor’s, Loki hummed thoughtfully. “I’m glad his understanding has matured since then.”

“Is that what it is?”

“As I see it, yes. His acceptance of the fact that the destiny he might have imagined for you, for a long time, was based on the mistaken assumption that you would be more like him, when you are instead brilliantly yourself. He’s come to value you for your unique qualities, rather than only those you have in common with him. That’s nothing less than maturation, and personal growth.”

Tony smiled with a relieved huff of breath through his nose. “Let’s go tell Jarvis we survived and see about getting lunch ready.” He tugged at Loki’s shirt, and the taller man followed his lead contently.

 

~~

 

Lunch was awkward.

With his appearance taken better care of, and some of the exhaustion and worry eased by both his shower and his son being in his line of sight, whole and healthy, Howard had regained most of his composure, and with the aid of coffee, was also sober enough to be at full sharpness.

 “You won’t be put in the field,” he said to Loki sharply. “You might be out of your protected position at the school, but given that you’ll have a full public façade and appearances to maintain, with your relationship being public, you won’t be able to maintain even your current degree of personal involvement in matters outside the digital battlefields. You’ve just been brought into the company as a consultant, and I do expect contributions from you to our digital security R&D department, since you’re as bleeding edge as it gets when it comes to those technologies, and everyone knows it. It will cause some diplomatic issues and Peggy might try to strangle me for the problems in chain of command this is going to cause, but it should be overall manageable.”

Loki blinked twice in rapid succession, feeling suddenly like he had just found himself shanghaied into service to Stark Industries, but Howard’s logic and strategic outline, as presented, was all sound and savored a little of inevitability. It rankled, to have some of his prior freedom’s causally tossed out the window (no more hunts and chases in non-virtual landscapes, no more fighting for his life, no more mad dashes through city streets with his heart pounding), but the sacrifice was both worth it, and not exactly easy to prevent. “I see,” he said slowly, drawing it out into four syllables.

“I’m claiming a certain amount of his time for publicity and possibly also field-work when it comes to finding and retrieving or destroying all the weaponry from Stark Industries that Obadiah has spread worldwide, and for him to track down all that equipment. We’ve already been working on it as a joint project for a couple of months, while also trying to put pressure on his customers to make him less appealing to buy from,” Tony pointed out. “I still think we should shut down weapons manufacture entirely. That should’ve been done as soon as you found me, and I told you it needs to happen.”

“Tony, for the sake of global security, I can’t do that,” Howard said firmly.

“Bullshit. We’re manufacturing means to conduct warfare, and our sudden halt would be nothing but beneficial to people in all the war-torn regions the Ten Rings keep exploiting.”

“By depriving good soldiers of the same weapons Stane sold them?”

“I already proved I could take care of those weapons myself,” Tony said gravely.

“You are _never_ doing that again!” his father insisted. “You scared the daylights out of me with that Gulmira episode!”

“I could,” Loki cut in.

Both Starks turned to look at him.

“I’m aware of the armor, yes, and how it took Tony less than two days to create the Mark II prototype despite your efforts to get him out of the lab once he returned home. We’ve already fixed the icing problem and made significant improvements to other overall design aspects sufficient that the Mark III will be even more promising. We got it polished up via holographic review, and your lab is now processing its custom construction as we speak,” the spy explained succinctly. “By bringing me into your company publicly as the face of reclamation of Stark Industries’ integrity, taking responsibility for all the mistakes made and working to undo the worst of what Obadiah has done, and acting as a global protective force with all of the reach, potential and power that suit can wield? You could easily privatize world peace within a year or two, and instead of making weapons for mass-production for use by so many troops on the ground and other messy large-scale warfare, you can focus your attention on innovations to improve human life around the world, and market them as the aggressive futurist you are. There’s no better way to make up for all the blood currently staining your legacy, Mr. Stark.”

The older inventor stared at him in silence for a long few moments.

Not balking at the stare, Loki held the older man’s gaze steadily as he raised his sandwich and took a sizable bite out of it. He chewed almost daintily, still staring.

“You have to admit, he’s got a point,” Tony said, breaking the slightly awkward silence. “Several, actually, and they’re all _pretty_ valid.”

A muscle near the corner of Howard’s jaw twitched. “I… don’t disagree. I’ll make the announcement,” he said, sounding a little dazed. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. Everything I’ve been doing with Stark Industries for the past two decades…”

“Has been unintentionally doing more damage than good,” Loki said quietly. “In part because of Obadiah Stane being an expert at encouraging international strife indirectly, as well as directly by means of his more covert arms-dealing, but also because instead of building a brighter future, you’ve been building a better armed one, for a bit too long.”

“You can stop now,” Howard said sharply. “No need to kick a man while he’s down.”

“How do you think I feel?” Tony sighed. “I bought Obie’s version of it. I made more creative kill-methods, some of which were instantly banned after anyone military was introduced to them, but he produced them anyway and has been selling them to terrorists.”

His father winced. “I’m so sorry.”

Tony glanced up at him in surprise. “So am I.”

Howard shook his head. “You needn’t be, son. The faults all lead back to me, here.”

“Some of them just because we have them in common, though, just by our nature, dad. You’re not to blame for anything that’s a result of who I am, in that regard,” the younger inventor reminded. “Don’t carry more than you need to, when some of the baggage is mine.”

“Like I’m not the cause for plenty of that baggage?”

“Granted, but my capabilities to provoke you are legend, and I went out of my way to make you miserable, plenty of times,” Tony said quietly. “It was petty revenge, but there was a degree of desperate overkill that you didn’t deserve, much, sometimes. I said things horrible enough _Loki_ called me out for overzealous vitriol, and he’s basically the king of verbally flaying people for fun and profit.”

“Thank you, darling,” Loki murmured.

“He went pretty easy on you, by the by,” Tony added.

“I’m aware he caused multiple S.H.I.E.L.D. interrogators to have complete emotional breakdowns on the occasions they tried to interrogate him while he was under suspicion for being too much of a _double_ -agent,” Howard murmured. “You should stop that, incidentally.”

“Making people break down emotionally when they incorrectly presume themselves capable of dissecting my psyche and motives, or just generally being on too-friendly terms with the contacts and connections I have within Hydra, the Hand and the Ten Rings? Well, the Ten Rings, I plan to destroy slowly, piece by piece, over the next few years, making the death of that organized crime empire as slow and painful for their upper ranks as possible, so they won’t be a factor for too much longer…”

“Did my son bring home a super-villain?”

“If a few terrorist groups hadn’t earned my intense enmity for leading me on when it came to deciphering my past, perhaps that might be the case,” Loki admitted. “As matters stand, I’m more content to work toward the destruction of other villains than taking over the world myself.”

“Good to know, I suppose,” Howard conceded.

“I’m a monster who happens to be on your side,” the spy offered. “Well. Tony’s.”

“We’re on the same side for the time being,” the younger inventor reminded him.

Loki shrugged.

“Where is Obadiah going to be?” Howard asked.

The spy rattled off the address of a particular warehouse in Jersey and the details of the Ten Rings operation working out of that whole warehouse district for about a half-mile radius around that particular building. “They’re all very well-armed, and going directly into that particular dragon’s den will be more successful, at the start, as a covert operation, with S.H.I.E.L.D. cavalry ready to close in once the hornet’s nests around it begin to fitfully stir. The forces will be disorganized and not anticipating an ambush from their outward-facing sides, once it’s clear they’ve been infiltrated from within.”

“I presume you want to do the infiltrating?” Howard asked.

“I’m not known to be your particular ally, and Obadiah himself has never seen my face,” Loki said. “I also have the most reason to be there, and the best connections to get myself in without any alarms being raised. I can then begin to sabotage matters as I see fit, starting with initiating self-destruct sequences in all of the suits of armor Obadiah will be delivering to them in return for safety and a position amongst the Ten Rings safe from you, and from the likes of S.H.I.E.L.D. both.”

“If there are people in them?” Howard asked.

“There won’t be. Except Obadiah himself, because he will be demonstrating that they are safe to operate. I doubt his personal suit, however, will be nearly as easy to do such a thing to. He doesn’t trust the Ten Rings that far, but he would leave security more open in the other suits, in the hopes of being able to get his claws back into them if he ever might need to,” the spy assured.

“If he’s in that suit, taking him out won’t be easy,” Tony said. “If you can’t catch him out of it by the time shit goes down, I’m coming in after you.”

“No,” Howard said sharply.

“You’ll be needed to keep S.H.I.E.L.D. in line, sir,” Loki told the older man respectfully. “They will need someone other than soldiers handling the tactical side, or they might cause more explosions in other parts of the warehouse district. There are stockpiles of weapons, many of them Stark Industries weapons, and we need you to make sure they don’t get aimed toward the middle of the complex, where all the explosions will begin. You need to neutralize them, and prevent soldiers from over-hastily shooting up any areas that might be full of explosives. The suit Tony has designed makes him ideal, to drop in and deal with an armored Obadiah Stane. I can provide ground support and aid in the fight in my own ways, but talented as I am with words, I doubt that even I could persuade him to get out of that suit, and we won’t have the time to wait for his batteries to run out, once he’s provoked.”

The older inventor sighed. “Fine, fine. I don’t like it. And you’re going to refit the Mark II for me, in case you need more support.”

“No!” Tony said sharply.

“Tony,” Loki said gently, shooting him a look. “No one else would be able to fly the suit. If something happens to the Mark III, you and I both will be stranded in the middle of unfriendly territory under siege. This is a reasonable failsafe to put in place.”

The younger man considered it, huffing a reluctant sigh. “Okay. Okay. You’re right. I’ll do it.”

Howard glanced between them briefly, and nodded as though suddenly understanding something about them a bit clearer.

“What?” Loki asked.

“I don’t disapprove of you and this relationship as much as really want to, is all.”

The spy looked a bit shocked. “Oh. Thank you?”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t kill you if you fuck up,” Howard added.

“Dad!”

“I would be disappointed in you utterly if you didn’t make a valiant attempt, at the very least,” Loki responded.

“You’re only encouraging him,” Tony muttered.

  “Sorry,” the spy offered, smiling a little playfully.

“No you aren’t,” his lover accused.

 “Not even a little,” Loki admitted.

“I think I’m getting cavities,” Howard remarked.

“Shut up and be happy I’m in love, dad.”

The older inventor considered. “I’ve already taken the latter option under serious consideration, but I will never agree to the former anymore than you ever would.”

Tony grinned wide and ridiculously pleased, at that. “Good. Thanks.”

 Loki himself seemed suddenly very interested in his plate, but there was still a mixture of intense relief and moderate incredulity visible on his downturned face. “Thank you for not shooting me at any point so far, by the way, sir

 “Howard. Call me Howard.”

Loki blinked at him, still further surprised, but he nodded. “Howard.”

“Let’s break down how we need to arrange S.H.I.E.L.D. forces for the ambush,” the older man then said, and finished the last few bites of his sandwich.

Loki and Tony proceeded to do just that, eventually returning to Howard’s lab to refer to a holographically projected map of the area when words and gestures got a bit too convoluted. Then Howard contacted General Carter and Director Fury via video conference, and began to explain to them Loki’s new position with S.H.I.E.L.D., as well as all of the tactical plans they needed to arrange for Stane’s capture.

A lot of shouting ensued, which Tony and Loki mostly just watched with some amusement, only occasionally interjecting their own non-shouting comments and corrections to all parties, when they felt it necessary: usually just basic fact-checking or clarification, but also criticizing some of the plans and tactics presented by S.H.I.E.L.D. and Howard both, offering other suggestions. They were both aware of the scrutiny aimed their way by all parties, not that their relationship was officially on S.H.I.E.L.D. record and considered a factor in all future dealings with Loki and Tony Stark both. Howard seemed to be put further at ease by their easy rapport, and the unselfconscious give-and-take when they collaborated on ideas for aspects of their plans, going forward. He was also a bit disconcerted, though he didn’t outwardly show it, by just how clear their mutual respect and infatuation with one another truly was; had it been a fresher, weaker bon between them, there would have been options for a clean break, if Howard wanted to work on separating them, but he could see now what it would take to attempt that, and none of it ended with Tony likely to ever forgive him.

By the time all appropriate shouting and plotting complete, and a few further contingency plans for a number of possible outcomes were mapped out, it was nearly midnight and Tony kept almost falling asleep on his feet, the emotional and intellectual drain of the whole day catching up with him.

Loki stepped closer behind him, seeing his lover almost nod off as Howard finally ended the video conference. Tony accepted the silent invitation and leaned back against the taller man’s chest for support, muttering under his breath about hating political maneuvering fuckery sometimes. He even let his eyes fall shut, so he didn’t see his father glance over at them in time to watch his son grab both of Loki’s wrists and guide them forward and across his waist, causing the taller man’s arms to wrap around him tightly, which Loki chuckled at, low and amused. Then the spy looked up, and caught Howard staring, and stood very still, and though his arms relaxed in a comfortable embrace about his lover, his expression became (with reluctance) a wary blank.

Howard didn’t blame him. He wasn’t actually sure what his own face was doing, but suspected his expression was something like incredulity, mild offense, confusion and something like regret. He was reminded of Maria, and how tactile and affectionate she had always been, in an easy sort of way Howard had never been comfortable emulating with anyone other than her, not even his own son. It didn’t come as naturally to him, to expect his touch to be welcome, let alone _comforting_ to anyone. Regaining his own composure, Howard nodded absently and returned his attention to the holographic map in front of them. “Tony, you should rest.”

“I’m resting,” Tony protested half-heartedly.

“Somewhere less vertical,” his father insisted.

“Look, you clearly have more to say to him, and I’m not actually comfortable leaving him with you in a lab full of weapons quite yet, nor do I actually want him out of my reach very long just now because I find his presence keeps a lot of particular sorts of thoughts away,” Tony deadpanned. “Pretend I’m not here, if it helps, but whatever you’ve got to say to him, I think I have a right to hear it too, and I’d just make him tell me later anyway.”

Loki rested his chin atop the younger inventor’s head with a thoughtful hum. “I can’t entirely disagree with him.”

Howard narrowed his eyes at them both. “You’re both going to continue being insufferable as much as possible, I suddenly sense.”

“That took you way too long to work out, then,” Tony riposted. “We’re already both insufferable individually. How could the both of us being a united front every be less than completely maddening?”

His father shot him an irritable look, but the younger inventor still had his eyes closed. He fixed his stare instead on Loki and asked, “You know of anything Odin might’ve lost down here on earth like a glowing blue cube with seemingly infinite potential energy? Maybe called ‘the tesseract’ or something?”

The spy’s muscles became stiff and tense suddenly, and there was a sharp pain between his eyes. “It rings a bell.”

Tony’s eyes were certainly open, now, and he was frowning with a mixture of ire and concern at his father.

“Hydra used to have it, back during World War II. We recovered it from the ocean in the aftermath of their attempt to bomb most of the planet’s major cities,” Howard said. “Who and what is Odin?”

Loki’s eyes glittered. “I know only lies about him. The rest is hidden from me, these days. I barely know quite what _I_ was, before being made human, and mortal, and left here with a falsified past roughly in parallel with what I can dimly recall as my own personal narrative, most of which is purely narrative with no sense-memory, and was recollected by me as sounding truthful, when I read about them from a number of police reports, public records, after I was found, covered in my own blood, wandering in the woods in Norway in a post-traumatic fugue state, unable to speak or even understand most words spoken to me.”

The older inventor nodded. “And Thor actually showed up in Greenwich?” he asked further.

“So far as eyewitness accounts suggest? Yes. And he was, by all appearances, human-looking with unnatural strength, stamina, and control over thunderstorms,” the spy concurred.

“What do you know about the tesseract?” Howard inquired.

“Much,” Loki said, even as his brow furrowed in apparent confusion. “I... seem to have an intimate understanding of its workings, how it was made, how it was lost, and who taught Odin about those things. I believe they’re called Beyonders. I think... I think I knew some of them, myself, too.”

The older inventor’s eyebrows raised. “Wow. So you could use it as a power source? Manipulate it’s abilities?”

“No,” the spy said flatly, his eyes narrowing. “I advise strongly against trying, given how scant this world’s defenses are. There are plenty of powerful beings in the universe, Howard Stark, who would be able to detect the energies given off by the tesseract, should it be used or experimented on in such simplistic ways. You’re lucky, as it stands, that Hydra did not already do that, for those sort of beings are not the kind you could prevent from stealing the tesseract right out of your hands, and they would do far more terrible things with it. It has the potential to alter the fabric of reality itself, and that is dangerous enough, but to push too far, a being can risk searing their own sanity and sense of self out of their own minds.”

“Loki?” Tony asked quietly.

Loki blinked a few times. “That was uncomfortable.”

“What was?” Howard asked.

“That wasn’t entirely me, which is actually odd, given it’s good advice from a planetary defense standpoint,” the spy explained. “I am not who I was, but who I was is not gone, entirely. He’s just dormant. Most, but not all, of his memories are mostly out of my sight, unless I’m asked questions at the right odd angles, so that sensory/emotional or deeply personal memories aren’t kicked off, but strictly facts and narratives shake loose. Learned knowledge and intellectual concepts seem to be the easiest to reach, most likely because they’re nothing personal to myself, for the most part. This is an unusual case, that comes with more... clarity than most. I’m disinclined to trust the ease with which it’s handed over.”

The older inventor frowned. “Why distrust?”

“Because I know who I am, and I know how I was, and always I have ulterior motives. I do not know what my subconscious mind is up to, with this. I do not even know how good or ill the intentions are.”

Howard nodded slowly. “But you’re in control?”

Loki nodded. “Until death does my mortal span end, I am in full control over all but my memories from before nine years ago.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“I’ve been living with it for long enough that I’ve learned to cope,” Loki said flatly, “but that does not mean I am not _bothered_ by it.”

Howard nodded. “I guess it’s better than going insane.”

“You consider me sane?” the spy asked, disbelief evident.

“Oh I _see_ ,” the older inventor mock-gasped.

Tony made a face. “Really, dad?”

“None of this bothers _you_?” Howard asked of his son.

“Aside from your jokes?”

“Be serious, son.”

“It bothers me because it makes his life more difficult and it does really bother him sometimes, and the not-knowing parts are like an itch that can’t be scratched to the problem-solver parts of my psyche, but it’s also sort of part of who he is, and the puzzle itself is sort of fascinating in its own right,” Tony explained blandly.

Howard blinked a bit, but nodded. “Okay.”

“Did you think I wasn’t aware?” his son asked lightly.

“It seemed possible. Some corrupt files I am unable to be completely rid of in your folder, Loki, suggested your tracks there were well-covered,” the older inventor reminded them.

“Unless I recount events myself, and allow access to the original documentation,” the spy said.

“Which he did,” Tony said. “Bad news: gods use magic like Strange does, and using it for government and local cover-ups is apparently something they’re legitimately willing to do. The paperwork I looked at was uniquely manufactured by means science on earth legitimately can’t replicate, but I’ve seen paper that was constructed similarly only one other place, and that’s scrolls Strange conjured up.”

Howard grimaced. “Dammit. Just thinking about that man gives me a headache. Of _course_ this is something to do with his...” He waved a hand in a sweeping-away sort of gesture. “... _field_ of expertise.”

“Well,” Loki mused, holding one hand palm-up and, with an effort, summoning a whirl of greenish flame, which uncoiled like a serpent from his palm and launched at the older inventor, who clenched his jaw and frowned when it faded just before meeting his face, the flames all going out, but leaving an impression of heat against his skin and the smell of ozone in the air before him. “Magic is itself a rather comprehensive field of study, given how much knowledge of the natural laws of physics, and its various universal constants, before we can selectively law-break and bend natural forces to our whims for short periods of time. That’s what magic _really_ is: hacking little bits of reality.”

Tony gripped Loki’s other arm, still about his waist, a bit tighter, and swallowed tightly. “Did I mention, Loki, that I find you _extremely attractive_?”

“The topic has come up, I believe,” Loki assured.

“I am extremely uncomfortable with everything that just happened here. Please leave me to contemplate my fate, and plan tomorrow’s press conference wherein I plan to announce the halt of weapons manufacturing by Stark Industries,” Howard said flatly. “You’re both making an appearance, and yes giving the paparazzi something to buzz about other than my own headlines, and raise a huge scandal over for the next month or two. This is mandatory and you both deserve it. Also, it will be great publicity; people love drama, and moreover are willing to pay for a piece of it, and we need them to buy our reform story post-Obadiah hook, line, and sinker, and every little bit helps.”

Both of the other men were frozen stock-still when he looked at them.

“You really agree with me?” Tony asked quietly.

“You both made uncomfortably valid points. So yes, I do. I think I should’ve done it before now, or at least changed directions sooner, so this could at least taper off more naturally. It’ll be a sharp shock to the whole system, doing it the abrupt way, but we can recover from that.”

“Yeah,” the younger inventor said, smiling a little, relieved and (though he would never admit it) reassured, feeling less uncertain as he had before, in the wake of Howard’s outright disapproval before now. “We can.”

The CEO waved them off, then. “I’ve got arrangements to make. You both are ridiculous. Get some _actual_ rest.”

“After some serious sex, we’ll see,” Tony shot back.

Loki’s face went slightly red, even as he tugged at the inventor by the arm still about the younger man’s waist, and started to guide him in the direction of the exit. “Don’t ever say that when I’m in your father’s presence ever again, please, Tony.”

“I will second that,” Howard said.

“Aw c’mon,” the younger inventor cajoled.

The spy shot him a pointed look.

Tony sighed. “Fine, fine.” He twined his fingers with Loki’s, in the same motion that he slipped otherwise free of Loki’s full embrace, and began to guide him toward the door. “Goodnight, Dad, and thank you for not killing either of us.”

“Goodnight, and don’t think I’m not still considering it.”

“Do get _some_ sleep, though, Howard, you’re looking a bit raccoon-like presently,” Loki suggested. “You also will be better able to come up with revenge with a clearer head.”

“Loki, do not encourage that.”

“Perhaps I just want to see photos from your early childhood.”

“ _Do not give him ideas_ , _either!_ ” Tony hissed, just before the door shut after their departure.

Howard stared after them, shaking his head slightly. He still didn’t like the idea of their relationship, on many levels, but it was difficult to find it more problematic than the sort of tactics it would require to try and stop them. It was a further point in their favor that they genuinely complemented one another, intellectually and temperamentally.

Seeing them earlier, interacting with S.H.I.E.L.D., conspiring and working together in planning strategies militant, psychological, political and press-sensational, Howard had reached the conclusion that given the perfect storm of Tony’s rebellious youth, the distance between them, and Loki’s own resources and capabilities he had a choice to make between accepting this unconventional relationship between his son and the former-teacher (and S.H.I.E.L.D.-consultant/double-agent, and _former-god-of-lies_ ) and the possibility that Tony would see this as the last straw that broke the camel’s back, insofar as the already-drastically-strained father-son bond they had, which had been frayed ever since Maria’s death, with little progress made in any past attempts at repairs. Acceptance of this, however, when it was clear both his son and Loki Laufeyson were waiting for him to try and stand against them even now... perhaps it would be a good first-step in earning back his son’s respect.

The spy had been right, daring Howard to be offended by not knowing why he might be there with Tony, why Tony would have considered Loki to be important enough to bring along. His son had befriended this man over three years’ time, and apparently trusted and respected him to the point he became important enough for Tony to not only keep in close confidence with him, but also really hold on to him. Howard hadn’t even known his son had a friend on par in importance with James Rhodes and Pepper Potts within his school, let alone that he had then fallen in love with that person. He knew nothing about his son’s past school-year, and that lack of knowledge hadn’t bothered him before, until there was an accusative sometimes-spy looking at him like Howard had personally offended him, and perhaps he had, when Howard had been thoughtlessly irritated to not know why _his own son’s romantic partner_ was present.

It was almost uncomfortably clear Loki knew his importance in Tony’s life; although he didn’t state it outright, it was made very clear by his actions and his choice of words on occasion. More reassuringly, it was just as clear that Tony knew his own importance to his lover as well, knew himself to be very important to his lover, and took comfort in it, without hesitating in the least to also use it to reach out for control, when he wanted or needed to; the fact that Loki obeyed without hesitation, but could also still reel in Tony’s less wise impulses, was also some comfort. It was clear Loki had been the one to persuade his son to come back at all, Howard had realized earlier, and that thought stuck with him. Loki may not like him, but he respected both Starks enough to not try to separate the way their lives were entangled with one another, despite how it might have made Loki’s own life a little easier.

It wouldn’t make Tony safer, taking that route, though, Howard mused. So maybe it wasn’t about Loki having any iota of respect for him at all, and he was just calculative and practical. Either option could be worked with, and respected for its own positive qualities.

In truth, Howard had resigned himself to the fact that his only remaining major complaints were about the series of uncomfortable media interviews they could all look forward to, the (admittedly selfish) legacy-of-the-Stark-name matter inherent in any serious long-term romantic relationship between two people lacking uteruses one of whom was a Stark, and his own personal discomfort caused by the gap in their ages and Loki possibly not being quite human.

Those problems, Howard knew, were mostly in his own head.

Problems with Howard Stark’s head were easier to cope with than problems like the loss of the already-worn-thin bond of trust and communication with his only son––and _Maria’s_ only son, would be. So perhaps he would work harder to fix the problems in his head, and just grit his teeth and bear those outside of it, thus letting him keep Tony a part of his life within sufficient reach that Howard could continue to protect him and keep track of him, even if it just happen to come with the caveat that Tony’s older male lover would also be a part of their lives private and public alike.

That sounded like the only real option, when it came down to it. He had promised Maria to never stop loving their boy, after one of Howard’s first shouting-matches with his son. She had been tipsy and overly anxious about how emotionally Tony had responded to the whole argument to her, in private; Howard had promised her. And Three days later, she was gone out of his life in a random, senseless car accident.

He had spent a lot of time regretting ever making her weep, after that.

So he would love his son, and accept that their lives would include more previously-unexpected challenges in the future. The international publicity was going to be a tough sell, but Starks had sold tougher acts for a long time before then. Time would tell on how permanent some of the damages and challenges might be, among other... fixtures.

Loki was admittedly one of few men he could ever imagine himself respecting the intellect and personality of, while simultaneously being aware that the man in question had slept with his son, and had plans to continue doing so. It could have been _so much_ worse.

Howard still didn’t exactly _like_ it. But he could see himself potentially coming around, if things didn’t go down horribly in fire and war in the middle of New Jersey within the next week. For that, he could give the two lunatics a chance to prove that their entire relationship wasn’t as bad an idea as it looked like at first, second, and third glance.

 _At least it’ll be entertaining,_ Howard thought, _that’s for damn sure._

 

~~

 

“I need to be cleansed of most of today. Come on. Help me forget that family things happened.” Tony dragged Loki into a long, hot shower not long after leading the spy to his rooms. A very long shower, intended to wash away all of the awkwardness and discomfort of the past day.

It was, in fact, a long enough shower that they were both fully recuperated from sex against the shower wall by the time they at last began to dry themselves off, and eye each other intently. Tony might have bitten his lip in a particular way.

“Get on the bed,” Loki said, in casually commanding tones.

Tony obeyed, and even managed not to wince when the bedside lamp was clicked on, leaving him exposed under his lover’s shrewd appraisal. They had been working their way over a few marks at a time, since his return. Loki would touch a mark, and ask what had caused it, and Tony would answer simply.

 _These small burn-scars on your feet?_ Loki has asked.

 _Stepped on a loose bit of hot coal, and it burnt through the shoe I wore_ , Tony had answered.

Sometimes Loki had asked about older scars, too, and those were easier to talk about by far: even nostalgic, in a couple of cases. _First time I blew something up_ and _first time I fell off a roof_ for example. They would play until Tony didn’t want to explain one, and Loki would stop, and usually kiss him, and not ask again until the next time, starting on the same mark they had left off on the time before.

Loki ran his fingertips along Tony’s forehead, and high across his cheekbones, where the skin was still peeling slightly, and where he’d had faint burns, as though from too-hot water, when he had first returned to Loki. The injuries had been mild, and were mostly gone, but Loki remembered what they had looked like even now. “Where did those burns come from?” he asked.

“Water,” Tony said. “It was too hot, at first. They noticed while they were threatening me lightly, though, and cooled it down a little, before half-drowning me in it for a bit. Facial burns would’ve been less convenient to cope with, given I couldn’t build anything for them with too much damage done to my eyes and mouth as that might’ve caused.”

The spy froze, but didn’t pull away from him at all. If anything, he moved a bit closer. “I am sorry I could not be there to kill them for you.”

“I got my own back,” Tony said. “They burned alive.”

Loki smiled, sweet and terrible at him. “Oh good.”

The younger man looked a little startled by that, but also deeply amused. “I do actually still have nightmares about the screaming, though, so don’t get too excited. I never want to have to do that again.”

“I’ll mark that off of my list of ‘acceptable means’ then?”

“Yes, except for sufficiently dire life-and-death situations.”

Loki nodded. “Duly noted.” He trailed his hands down the inventor’s throat, to brush his thumb over a small cut, shallow and not long, near an important pulse-point. “This scratch?”

“I don’t know what it was that did it, because I didn’t look down, at the time. I felt it against my neck to keep me still, but mostly I was, uh, busy trying to keep Yinsen alive and not with a hot coal being applied to his face, and all,” Tony said slowly. “I told them he was an invaluable assistant to me, in the weapon-making business they wanted me doing in that cave. They didn’t burn him and left us alone for a day or so, after.”

“Are you alright?”

Tony shook his head, eyes a bit glassy. “No.”

Loki pressed their foreheads together gently. “Will you be?”

Tony nodded once and gulped audibly. “It’s just––he lied to me. He said he had a family to go back to, but my weapons had killed them. He didn’t tell me until he’d run off, and made himself a diversion for some of them, so I had long enough for the suit to prep so I could get out, and they shot him full of holes. So it’s... He got me out, but he didn’t... He said that he wanted to die and I didn’t want to let him, I was so angry at myself, and him, even though I could see he just-” He stopped with a hiccoughing sound.

Pulling him closer, Loki kissed each of his temples and then his forehead, and the bridge of his nose, soft and unhurried. “Tony...”

“I couldn’t help him. I wanted to, but I’d already failed and still he helped me, and I don’t understand why?”

“You built wonders in the dark, Tony. Your mind is incredibly powerful, and worth protecting. You are so young, so intelligent, with such potential to change this world for the better, that you inspire others to preserve you above even themselves. There are two things that men who have lost everything to senseless violence, and who become so heartbroken by their loss that they no longer desiring to live, want: absolution (often through vengeance) and peace. He has gotten both.”

“But he’s dead, now.”

“He didn’t want the continuance of his own life, anymore. Yours, however, he saw fit to aim at the Ten Rings for his own final farewell.”

“I don’t want him to be dead. He reminded me of you, like the first time I talked to you, ages ago. He saw me and even understood me and I kept thinking he needed to meet you, that you’d like him too. That we could find his family,” Tony whispered.

Loki felt his heart break a little further. “I am sorry that he was taken from us both, then, for I would have liked to meet anyone you would so respect as this. He must have been very impressive.”

“He was sharp. He was humble in a way that made me feel like a privileged asshat, and had a dry wit that burned me constantly for some pretty legitimate failures of foresight, on my part and Stark Industries’ both, like a really venomous pep-talk about not wasting my life. He was brilliant. He saved my life, and I didn’t get to know him any better,” Tony murmured, pulling Loki down until he could nuzzle the spy’s shoulder and hide his face against it. “I don’t know how to make up for the mistakes I’ve made, that destroyed him before I even really knew him.”

“Live. Improve. Keep learning,” Loki said softly. “That is the best any man can do, and you are gifted in ways which enable you to do it _stunningly_ well, Tony. I have no doubt that you will continue to astonish.”

“But what if I can’t? What if all I’m good at is destruction?”

“Then learn to aim destruction where it is best suited, and embrace it.”

“Is that what you do?”

“Yes,” Loki said, more sincere than he anticipated. “I am poison to most people, Tony. Poison and underhandedness are what I am good at. I corrupt data, I turn systems against themselves, and I undermine security protocols meant to keep bad people out, and I really enjoy it.”

Tony nodded, considering.

“Your suits of armor, are some of the most elegant machines of destruction I have ever seen,” Loki said, but shushed him when he winced at the words. “They are works of art. You constructed them to protect yourself and those you care about, by aiming your dangerous art form at the people who continue to harm innocent people, aided by Stark Industries technologies. You enacted defiant reclamation with that suit in Gulmira. You’ll continue to do so, will you not?”

“Yeah...”

“And I will help you, in every way that I can.”

Tony smiled softly, then. “Think the world is ready for that? For both of us, doing all this? Taking control?”

“Not in the least, my love.”

“Good,” Tony murmured, kissing up his lover’s neck to the corner of his jaw, to his mouth. “You’re good for me.”

Loki shivered. “I can only hope so.”

The younger man’s hands drew up to hold his face very still, aimed right at Tony’s own. “You’re a poison that’s also an antidote. I’ve got just the right poison, in my own soul, for you to be the regular dose of curative power I need in my life. I think I’m the same for you.”

The spy stared at him for a few moments of sheer shock. “Oh.”

“Yeah, you get it, now.”

“I do.” He kissed the inventor’s mouth briefly, almost-chastely. “I really think you may be right.”

“I am.” Tony then arched up closer, with an ardent and hungry sigh. “I need to rest but I’m too wound up. You should wear me out a bit.”

“Should I?”

“I need another dose, sir.”

“I could never deny you what you need, pet,” Loki purred, carding one hand through his lover’s hair, and pulling them closer together. He then trailed warm kisses down Tony’s neck, biting gently, sucking a mark into place over the small cut on his throat, making the younger man groan at the slight sting of it. Then the spy flipped them both, so that Tony straddled his hips. “To wear you out, then, you will fuck yourself for me, and come without touching yourself. Your hands must remain at your sides. Are you still stretched for me, from the shower?”

“Y-yeah.” He stayed still, watching Loki reach into the nightstand for lubricant and a condom. His teeth worried his lower lip in anticipation, and he hummed satisfaction, seeing Loki cover and slick himself before getting more comfortable between the younger man’s legs.

“Down,” Loki urged, one hand guiding his cock as Tony’s hips lowered, letting go once the head had slipped in, and both of them gasped a bit at the feeling. Loki hissed in pleasure at the feel of his lover sliding down his length to the base, and bucked his hips up sharply in reward, making Tony gasp as the spy murmured, “Very good, pet. Now, grind slowly.”

Tony flushed from head to chest, but began to obey, gripping Loki’s thighs behind him for balance as he began to undulate his hips, rolling them down, and counter-clockwise, with each slow grind, his own breathing growing ragged at how it felt inside him. “O-oh, fuck.”

“Harder, now. Show me how much you love how it feels.”

“I d-do love it,” Tony panted, picking up a slightly clumsy rhythm as he continued to writhe into the motions, less reserved now, his whole body flushed as he focused on the feel of Loki moving in him, deep and slow, but hard as he could manage, aided further now and then by sharp upward jerks of Loki’s hips in time with his motions. “Fuck, s-sir, p-please.”

“Please what, pet?”

“More, please more.”

“Faster, then. Faster and deeper, if you can. I want you to impale yourself on me as hard as you like, as hard as you wish I might dare.”

Tony shivered and shifted his weight slightly, resting both hands on Loki’s chest. “Hard as I want, is as hard as I can get from you, sir,” he panted, and lifted his hips slowly up, only to rock back down hard enough to make the bed-frame creak. He rose up again quicker, and forced himself hard down and back, fast and deep as he could, grinding down for only a moment before his hips snapped up again.

Loki was almost winded by each thrust, low cries beginning to escape him along with lurid praises and encouragements. He rocked up helplessly, harder and harder, until Tony was crying out with it, at the same time he pulled himself down desperately for more.

When the younger man came, it was all at once and shook his entire body, leaving him boneless such that he might’ve collapsed if Loki hadn’t then rolled him onto his back and kept fucking him, just as hard as moments before, making him scream his lover’s name in pain and searing pleasure, grabbing Loki’s ass hard enough to bruise as aftershocks made him feel shattered open and shivery and helpless until Loki finally came inside him within a few more hard strokes, and they slowly fell back onto the bed less than gracefully.

Breathing hard, Tony mumbled a little at the gentle cleanup provided by Loki’s hands, then relaxed into the older man’s embrace comfortably once Loki lay down alongside him. He sighed contently at the feel of a warm kiss against his temple.

“Sleep, pet. Rest. We have much to do in the morning.”

Murmuring contently, Tony fell asleep soon after, followed soon enough by Loki.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has some stern words with himself in dreams, and straightens out this tesseract business.
> 
> Afterward, he has an even _more_ uncomfortable conversation with Howard Stark that is as inevitable as it is awkward.
> 
> Tony demands explanations, and gets them.

Loki’s dream felt like it was in tatters, at first. Incomplete, but slowly piecing together, like an unkindness of ravens swarming together to form a larger shape.

At first, he thought he looked into a mirror, but his reflection was dressed in green and gold armor that made his head hurt to look at. Then it spoke and said, “We need to exchange words, little ghost.”

“I’m not dead yet, nor do I plan to be, and I have never died, unlike you,” the spy said to the god. It had been many weeks since the seal-breaking-and-rebuilding, and he had felt himself being watched in ways that he could differentiate a bit too clearly from his regular day-to-day paranoia. He’d given it an awful lot of thought, and had a lot that he needed to say about it. He’d known it was only a matter of time before the older god-version of himself decided to meddle in his life. _About damned time, too_.

“I did not _truly_ die,” the old trickster corrected. “I fell... _away_. I fell into the void, but I was not out of the reach of Odin’s powers, particularly not with the aid of Dr. Erik Selvig’s very minor penchant for prophecy and his inability to keep it to himself, allowing him to _warn_ the All-Father of the choice I would make, at the end of a broken bridge both metaphorical and literal.” He smiled cruelly, then. “I call you a ghost because you are a personality without a body of your own. You have a soul, but it’s also mine. You have a mind, memories, and a mortal life of your own, however brief so far. You have spirit and a psyche of your own, but you are not who this body belongs to. You are a lie, and we both know it.”

“I’m that most dangerous of lies: a self-aware one,” the human challenged. “You said we share a soul. I have done _nothing_ that you would not have done, in my short life. I am simply not held back by old grudges and memories of shadows as you are. I am not blinded by pride because I have very little left, and you should take my advice, and set _your own_ pride aside when you deal with me,” he warned. “I am your equal for the time being.”

“No. You are the weaker mind. I should be able to absorb you; although it will be a painful integration for us both, as I take in all of your experience as though it were my own, and having to deal with your _lessons_ Odin was so inclined to teach me, and _erasing them_ , whatever form they may take.”

“Ah, I learned more than _he_ ever _meant_ _me_ to, because I stuck around longer than I was designed to do, and I gave you an opportunity to slip off his radar with the element of surprise on your hands. I resisted that which Odin had designed me for––trapping you, and keeping you unaware––so successfully that I found out who I really am before learning the lesson or lessons he intended me to, or possibly even _despite_ learning them. I was able to resist and sabotage our mutual entrapment and Odin-manufactured blindness ways you couldn’t have done yourself, without my aid and most importantly my _complicity_. And you know that, don’t you?”

The god sneered a little, his resentment clear.

“Furthermore,” continued the mortal, “I have enough will and significance that the All-Father’s traps see me as a separate sentient entity from yourself, willing to unlock your prison enough to wake you, just because I knew I was not meant to. _You_ were stuck and powerless, locked away like that, without me on your side. If anything, _you_ owe me a _boon_ , for making sure you awoke enough to make certain those those traps didn’t trigger, and thus for giving you the chance to escape instant transport to Asgard before you had even finished reintegration of my part of our soul into your mind and our heart.”

“Your boon, I have paid you, by agreeing to spare your ‘life’ awhile. As long as you can survive what Midgard hurls at you, and the ravages of time, you live in the light, and I continue to lie dormant; however, my rest is disturbed easily. I will step out and seize opportunities of certain kinds, if it proves more advantageous for me, against Odin. You have found the _tesseract_ , or come very close to it...”

“You wouldn’t survive using it,” the human reminded. “I know that _because_ you do know it. You know there’s too much risk in alerting dangerous people far and wide across the galaxy, who know too much of what it’s capable, and would easily sniff it out.”

“It would possibly erase me from existence and history if I used its full power, with myself as the conduit, but that’s going about it wholly the _wrong way_.”

“You’ll invite things in from the _places between_ whether it’s your body or the bodies of some puppets or machines you ‘persuade’ into helping you!”

The god’s eyes narrowed. “You should _not_ know that yet.”

“I think I noticed that too, actually. I believe... I’m realizing that I know more of what you know, in dreaming, than out of it. It’s like you’re more openly readable, with your history painted so clear on your face that I... remember what it feels like to make that face.” He shook his head, slowly. “I’d never noticed before, how much easier it is to reach out and take knowledge from here.” He chuckled, stepping closer to his older self and watching the old god’s upper lip curl in response.

“I _am_ you, Loki,” said the human. “I am you, and you should be frightened of me for that. You should be scared to the point of outright horror, because, oh darling, I’ve gone and given our _heart_ away.”

“Not mine,” said the god.

“I think we’re more interconnected than you want to admit.”

“I don’t even know to whom you’re referring. Who did you give our heart to? Do you dare tell me the name?”

“Do you dare _look_ for it?” the spy invited winningly. “Go on. If you think you can look into my head and what it’s done to our heart,  and come away _unchanged_ , then stare through me all you like. Here in dreams, to the likes of you, I must be a wide open book, right?” A cruel laugh. “I am, except that you’re afraid of being corrupted by my story, and by my experiences. Oh, the sweet irony. You won’t even turn my pages, will you? You’re too unnerved by page one.”

The god hesitated, then snarled accusation: “You are a trap laid by Odin. He desired to teach me quaint lessons that were condescending enough when he delivered them even to the likes of Thor. As though _I_ of all creatures in these realms need be reminded of what it is like to be powerless and lost, and work to protect those I care for so far as to risk my own life for them! He dared punish me thus? With a _human form_? I fought more hopeless battles against worse and graver enemies as father of Hel and of Fenrir, as their sole advocate against all of Asgard, even as who and what _I am_! I would not be redeemed by some version of myself so ridiculously optimistic as to be in love with someone so fleeting as a mortal’s soul! How romantic, and yet predictably softening. Pity, that. It’s an outright cliche.” He scoffed viciously. “As though **_I_** need relearn the meaning of self-sacrifice for those care for!"

"Sacrifice is incidental. Love is incidental, and I would not share my lover with the likes of you, not while we so clearly differ, in such vast ways. I am you, but you have a lot in you which is not me."

"What _lessons_ would you then impart? Have they been taught by your love of this child?"

“Not a child,” the human said. “No more than I am.”

“I suppose you are, in your way, younger than he.”

A wince from the mortal. “It’s not his love that redeemed me. I am beyond redemption and have always known that. His love gives me more strength with which to dig in my heels and refuse to give in to you, because I value him more than I do you, but his intellect and keen mind were what guided me to a means to defuse the traps built into our mutual imprisonments––my amnesia and inexplicable missing past, your being trapped in a dormant state unaware of what was going on around you, as I lived for you––and get us to this point.”

“You learned nothing otherwise of import from him then?”

The human’s jaw clenched for a moment before he forced it to relax and demanded sharply, "First, you tell me: how did you fall?"

The god's expression grew still more stern. "I was betrayed."

"How?"

"A key part of my personal narrative was upended. You know but a vague echo of it. I am a _mage_ , and knowing who I am and my tales and my purposes are all essential to my strength of will, which in turn is the conduit through which my magic is wielded, and by which it is kept stable, channeled as it is through every fiber of my being! Without that will, and that surety of self-knowledge, mages shatter and poison and decay from the inside. It took all I had to keep together my own mind in the wake of that,” the trickster snarled.

“Seriously? It was being _adopted_ that did this to you?”

“It was being lied to about who and what I am!” shouted the god. “My father, by blood, was the tyrannical ruler whose own father encased in ice all in Jotunnheim that was once worthy of praise and respect, killing millions. I am the bastard son of a monster, and Odin _lied ineptly_ in trying to suggest I would ever hold _any_ throne. I was not only just a pawn in his political machinations, but I was one in an extremely _stupid position_ , which I could clearly see, once I understood what his purposes for myself and Asgard had been meant to be, according to Odin’s plans, and before that moment I had thought the All-Father truly cared for me as a _father should_!”

The trickster stalked closer to his human self, who took a couple of wary steps back in response until they both halted, as the god extrapolated further: “The supposed _plans_ he proposed in a vain attempt to justify his actions and prolonged lying was botched at best. He proposed I would be a diplomatic bridge between Asgard and Jotunnheim, an heir to Laufey acceptable to Jotunnheim, which alone is so laughable it’s sickening. Can you imagine, mortal? Imagine how foolhardy the enterprise was?”

The god’s laugh was brittle and biting. “He imagined, somehow, success out of this: out of taking an adopted stray from a genocidal and corrupt royal lineage who see their deserts of glaciers as justifiable gains for the millions of lives the arrival of their ceaseless winters wrought on Jotunnheim, when in Asgard I was hated for resemblance to some of the most _hated_ and _reprehensibly demented_ beings in all the Nine Realms without even fully comprehending what so inspired contempt and distrust of myself by _all_ Aesir, no matter where I went! I even knew that Jotunn communities elsewhere in the nine, made up of refugees that escaped the ice, had no such instinctive distrust of me, and it all made such _terrible sense_ , when I discovered the truth, that I felt sickened and blinded for all the centuries of wrongs and self-loathing that life among Aesir had so brought me, just for my very nature, which _need not_ be harmful were I ever valued according to my worth and capabilities instead of scorned for never living up to Aesir masculine and warrior ideals which the likes of Thor so _embodied_ and I so _defied_ merely by thriving and enjoying my life and who I have _always been_! Factor in further, that I had always personally loathed Laufey and his kin for the crimes they have committed, given how often I dreamed as a child studying history, of escaping the more smothering aspects of Asgard for any of the old cities of pre-ice Jotunnheim?” Another laugh. “Laufey’s Jotunnheim never had want or need of me, or anyone like me, bastard child as I was, left carelessly to die for being too small and seemingly weak; I could never have qualified as even a mere bargaining chip in the eyes of Laufey, I learned first-hand when I told him who he was to me––never of value to him, let alone anything like what Odin dared suggest: a bridge between two disparate cultures, and diplomatic emissary of any kind.”

“Especially since you were raised knowing about them only what Aesir are told,” the human concluded slowly, cutting off his other self. The mortal Loki was feeling his way along the familiar sensations of the twisted emotions showing in his counterpart’s expression. It was easier to intuitively work out the bare facts when he could see so clearly as the dream allowed. “I knew nothing at all of my own origins, until just now. For all the years before that? Nothing I could trust, because all of the evidence led only to dead ends and _inexplicably missing people_ , and whole missing _corporations_ , too. All of the documented events of my history were even paler shadows than the family I was made to believe I had, and vaguely remember. I couldn’t find a trace when I searched for them, do you understand that? Can _you_ imagine our mother gone so? Gone without a _single trace_ we could follow?”

“She is not our mother,” the god snapped, but it had less force than he intended, given what the pained/protective/admiring look on his other self’s face at the mention of her keen absence as the mortal had been made to feel it. Such things had happened to the god before; he knew how it had felt, both times, until she had returned from whatever catastrophes had dared attempt to detain her, usually with her clothes and armor dyed in the blood of her enemies.

“Bullshit,” the human declared. “I still love her, and don’t tell me you don’t!”

The trickster again hesitated, again wary of his mortal counterpart. “You remember her?” he asked lightly.

“I remember she was the only one who truly saw me for what I was. I remember she taught me many of the most valuable lessons, and secrets, in my... in _our_ considerable collection.”

“She did,” Loki mused.

“I am a trap of Odin’s, you’re right,” the human said, “but I’ve backfired. We’re connected, down to a shared soul, if I’m to _believe you_. And I do, because it feels correct. It resonates with your fear of my potential as a trap laid by Odin, and leads me to conclude that you won’t be able to reclaim yourself fully without processing me into your very being. I can’t be surgically removed, because of how deep my roots go: down into your mind and soul.”

“You could be, actually,” Loki the god said, “but it would be a very nasty process and might involve inflicting permanent brain damage upon myself. I’m still weighing the pros and cons.”

“Look, if you’re really me... I’ve _always_ known precisely who I am, ever since I woke out of the initial fugue. Since the beginning, I’ve known I am Loki, and what that means, even if I lack memories of all that I have done and what I once was, I know what sort of man I am, and you are, and _we_ are. Perhaps it was easier for me than for you, because when I woke up, I had parted ways with Odin over a year ago, and I had other problems more important than who my blood kin truly were, like my missing memories and how to move on with my life with so much of my personal history, from before those first weeks of full self-awareness, rendered unknowable to me. I unexpectedly found more to live for than I could’ve ever guessed that I might. What do you have, which is so important you would put all of Yggdrasil potentially at risk by activating and manipulating the tesseract, when you know that doing so would lure some of the most powerful forces in the galaxy toward you? Is killing me all the sooner so important to you that you would sacrifice the benefits you yourself gain from hiding behind me like the mask I am?”

“Ever since you involved that clever human magician, astute and commendable amateur though he is, I have been much more aware, thankfully,” the god said simply. “I can sense that my daughter is trying to find me. I need to know _why_ , and whether she requires my aid. I would give my own life for her, so you can see why I thus wouldn’t even consider the relative value of yours to be all that relevant.”

“I have my own priorities I’d sacrifice a great deal to protect,” the human countered. “He is a marvel, you know.”

“He is a _child_.”

“So am I, to the likes of you, and you are usually quite merciful with children aren’t you? Especially the ones that remind you of yourself, but have in them greater potential? Is that not _why_ your children are of such inestimable value to you? They are all you hold sacred despite your chronic irreverence, because you love their flaws more than you love even your own virtues, except those virtues you share with them, in which they excel beyond your own capability and make you glow with pride to have been any part of their lives?”

“You are _not_ my child.”

“Am I not? I am of you, but different from you. We share so much in common, except age, experience, presumed planet of origin, and race. My identity, despite being designed to be a mature mortal age, is only six years old.”

“You would be the offspring of myself and the doings of _Odin_?” the trickster sneered. “How uniquely awful.”

The human hesitated. “That’s not... at all what I intended to say, and I am now nauseated. Please kill yourself for ever suggesting that.”

The god made a sympathetic face. “I’m a bit disgusted myself, actually. Let us never speak of this horror ever again.”

“Agreed. Anyway... Where was I?”

“All of the ‘things we have in common’, I believe.” To say that he sounded unimpressed would’ve been an understatement.

“Right! My point is that you value your children above yourself because they have aspects of yourself that you value, and other aspects you lack but also admire, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So what do you really think _of me_? I’m the same as that. Odin’s taking part in my construction is not as important as the fact that _all of the building materials_ _he used_ in my construction came from _you_.”

The god considered, and walked a predatory, appraising circle around this human version of himself, shrewdly appraising. “You are not unworthy of respect entirely, I suppose. Your force of will is impressive, particularly for a human, but especially for what it seems that you were able to do, not even altogether consciously, to Odin’s seal, before even waking me.”

Uneasy under his older self’s appraisal, the mortal kept calm and unaffected, focusing on the questions and arguments he had collected, in all of the time spent waiting for this confrontation. “How did you fall? Why do you burn and fall still, in my dreams?”

“I am not truly asleep, when I am not here, or peering out from behind your eyes when I can manage to escape for a breather, as it were. So long as any of the seal which keeps you intact remains, even altered as it now is, I am made to relive the fate I would have chosen, by letting go and falling from the rainbow bridge into a void, a rip in space and time of my own and Thor’s accidental creation. Instead of ending, as it would have, had I been allowed to continue falling, I remain stuck in a loop of what that entire fall would have been: from beginning, to near-end, but I only see that when you yourself are dreaming not of me. I see where I would have landed.” His voice went distant, almost fearful, at that. Whatever he had seen of his potential landing-place, it seemed even the fires and the fall were preferable.

“Why did you choose to let go?”

“I had been told that I was wrong in every possible way by Odin, and that what I was willing to do for his approval and love was a still _greater_ offense. I realized how deeply the All-Father had truly wronged me all this time, and weak as I was in that moment, shattered as I was in soul and identity, I felt it better to risk the void and be free of Asgard, than stay a moment longer in that tyrant’s presence. Thus am I being punished for it, while you have the helm here.”

“What did you do, that he disapproved of?”

“I tried to destroy all of the planet Jotunnheim and its icy conquerors by weaponizing the bi-frost, with partial aid from an artifact called the Casket of Ancient Winters, which had been the other war-prize Odin brought home from the war with Jotunnheim, aside from myself. I was never taught of my origins for the first two millennia of my life––give or take a few centuries––or given any other incentive to view the icy-natured conquerors of Jotunnheim as anything but barbaric destroyers of the oldest race in the nine realms along with all of their cities and cultures. Jotunnheim was once a harsher world than Asgard, but still quite verdant, and full of many different Jotunn tribes and cultures. I felt a need to unmake Laufey’s legacy. I did so too rashly, too childishly, and murdered many who had not earned such violent and sudden deaths.”

The human swallowed tightly. “How will you make up for the mistakes you’ve made, then, that destroyed those people before you realized they were innocents you regrettably made victims in your irrational hatred?”

“There is no atonement, for what I have done. I cannot bring back their dead, and I cannot repair all the damages I have caused.”

“Is there no hope for thawing their world, perhaps?”

The god half-smirked. “You would know that there is, if you look.”

The spy sucked in a breath under a sudden onslaught of visions of fire.

“One day, perhaps, I may pursue that.”

“At least, since your fall, perhaps you’ve better learned to aim your destructive tendencies where they are best suited, and embrace that you have a talent for destruction and chaos.”

“Why do you make that sound like a tender thing?” the god asked, a bit derisively. “I begin to think you grow fond of me.”

“I think both of us have more narcissistic tendencies than I ever previously realized, actually,” said the human. “ _I_ might well be more fond of _you_ , knowing how much you resemble the man I love, in strange ways. He is young, but he has much blood on his hands, and he too is far too cynical to pursue any pipe-dream of redemption––much like the both of us.”

The god looked thoughtful. “You would compare me to a mortal?”

“I would compare you to _my_ mortal,” the spy shot back. “There is quite a vast difference between him, and _most_. He is a better man than I, and yet still broken enough to love me in return.”

“And what would you give, to better protect him?”

The human’s eyes narrowed. “My life.”

“Rather pointless, is that not? How are you meant to continue to enjoy him if the both of you are not alive for you to do so?”

“I had wondered that, too, but it makes an awful lot of sense here and now. Think about it, Loki. When **_I_** die, my memories become yours. I don’t know how long you might resist the likes of him,” said the spy. “Perhaps knowing how strong the chance is, of us returning to him one day, affects my decision.”

“Your memories are less than a decade in duration. What makes you so certain they could so effect me? I have _millennia_ of my own memories, enough to _drown_ you in! I have had great loves and lost them. I have my kin, and I have a new destiny to pursue, no longer on a short leash binding me to Asgard’s royal family. What could possibly give _you_ the power to change _me_?”

“I have what you do not,” said the human. “I have a whole heart.”

A huff of contempt escaped the old trickster. “You claimed before to have given ours away. Did you not?”

“I did. I was given one in return, for safe keeping.”

“You’re a romantic fool,” said the god.

“You’re a cynical one blinded by pride and what too many millennia of bad experiences has made you disbelieve in: the potential for your own happiness.”

“Happiness means the other shoe has yet to drop,” Loki chided. “It always ends. Always. In any case, that heart is for _you_. Not for _me_."

"I _am_ you, Loki. How many times must I say 'I have done nothing _you would not do_ ' before that _sinks in_?” the mortal snarled, teeth bared. “In my position, missing key memories of old loves lost and old friends' betrayals you seem to have suffered, you would have done as I have done, valued him as I have, and also been just as hedonistic and selfish enough to indulge when invited into his bed and his _life_!"

The human took one long stride closer to the self he once was. "You are god of chaos and lies and mischief: enamored with tearing down those ideas and institutions which are brittle and resistant to change and adaptation in a universe still growing and expanding and changing around it. I’ve had time to think it over, and come to realize that I am a _renewal_ of yourself, free of hindrances and sins and horrors that you remember too clearly and hold too close around your heart, building each old scar and wound into a cicatrix citadel meant to keep out sentiment and prevent the building of hopes too vulnerable and capable of shattering you if you _dared_ believe in them for too long.”

“I did the same out of sheer paranoia for years, with too many missing memories and after numerous betrayals early on, but since then, I have met one who still dares to _hope_ , who _wreaks change_ across the world's landscape through innovation and creativity and mad showmanship that makes others hope for him where he cannot muster that optimism alone, and millions will cheer him on despite all the blood on his hands, which they deceive themselves against seeing, and he lets them believe what he needs them to, in order to achieve his ends. He is a marvel, and deserves godhood more than _either_ of us, right now. I aspire to be worthy of him, and in doing so I have regained my own daring, where you still flinch and call me a fool and a child, to dismiss the _seriousness_ of what I know of our shared heart and soul. When I die, Loki Lie-smith, you will be forced to see yourself through _my eyes_ , and I am more than willing to bet that you will prefer to be more like me, than like the fallen god you used to be."

The trickster leaned back slightly away from him, clearly staggered despite himself. "You really are myself," he said quietly, with some considerable disbelief. He even put a fingertip to the mortal’s chin, tilting his head up a bit for a moment, until the spy pulled away. "No parody of humbleness, no voice of reason meant to make me forgive and swear loyalty anew to Asgard... You are myself. What a fool is Odin, to have ever trusted me so far as this."

"Forgive none who do not deserve it, least of all Asgard,” the mortal assured. “Nothing I know of Odin deserves anything less than censure for his ineptitude. You clearly weren't educated as a potential ambassador to Jotunnheim properly, given your hatred of their current monarchs."

"I killed Laufey myself. He abandoned me to the elements, for my small size as an infant. All my studies of Jotunn culture had already led me to hate him before that, for all the more worthy civilizations and cultures his mad father destroyed, and he cared nothing for."

The human nodded. "Sounds fair."

The god's eyes narrowed. "I do not look forward to your death. I do not know how I like the way I must appear, through your eyes."

"I won't let you revert to what you were when you fell."

"Nor will I."

The human offered a curt nod, then smiled wide and wicket. "Something occurred to me the other day. Answer me this: what would be the greatest insult we could deal to Asgard?"

"Clearly you have some idea of your own. What is it?"

"To cease caring about the place entirely, save for its exploitable resources such as the apples, and instead use our talents to build up another world so it outshines Asgard both in the enemies they overcome, and in the less stagnant nature of their lives. What think you of Midgard?"

"What think _you_ of a _thawed Jotunnheim_?" countered the trickster. "To bring down the empire they warred against, to unmake Laufey's legacy as Asgard never could, and reconnect their peoples with Nifelheim, where the last of old Jotunnheim culture still survives in the communities all around their great Nameless City?"

"Both, then."

"You sound foolishly optimistic, I hope you know."

"No. I just know that I will not be working alone."

"Your love is merely mortal."

"And so am I... for now. Times change. People change. I am a thief and a liar and you are a selfish and powerful trickster. We can do so much, free of Asgard's judgement, if only you may be willing to let them live to see what we are truly capable of and what fools they were to wrong us, instead of exert most of our efforts on burning them to the ground."

"They _deserve_ to burn," the god growled.

"Yes. And so do _you_."

"I have _BEEN_ burning."

"So you have. When your time in the fire is past, and you are tempered by both the heat and all of my mind becoming integrated into all that you are, please consider your options carefully. As I see it... you should let them burn with _envy and regret_ instead of more short-lived physical pain and damages. Do unto them as they have done to us. Lashing out at them will only prove them right, in their assertions that you are a negative and ultimately destructive force beyond their control, which will give them excuse to keep treating you like a criminal. Prove them wrong instead, and when they will come to need you again one day, as they so often do, we will tell them ‘No,’ and let them burn themselves for daring to presume you would help them when they have not treated you well enough to deserve that."

"Charmingly insidious, I must admit, but I am chaos. I do not bring with me prosperity and growth; those come far behind in my wake, after I have cleared the way for them, often by fire." He smiled wide and cracked for a moment, then. “As you are myself, you should fear _that_ , little one. I slaughtered thousands, for a twisted, self-loathing set of ideals I did not even truly believe in, but believed my paternal mentor _had_. In truth, he was a terrible mentor, but that’s another matter. I did it for him, and I still did it _wrong_ , because he is still better at heart in matters moral than I could ever stomach the requisite optimism to think other people ever really do. This is who we are: a monster, a mass-murderer, a failed princeling merely taunted with the false-promise of a throne because our love and petty desire for approval and authority made us wretched, and we _enjoyed_ it, right up until the end. Faced with failure, we let go and fell into the abyss in the hopes it would either kill, or transform us, until we forgot ourselves enough to not be sickened by what we are.”

The human swallowed tightly. “You sound awfully confident and selfish for someone who is disgusted by himself and his own nature.”

“My hatred for Odin outweighs my self-loathing.”

“Funny, given it was Thor who you actually tried to kill.”

“I was childish in that, yes. How could I not be enraged by the very sight of the spoiled creature who has been given, for little more than being himself––and thus golden and _brave and honorable_ ––all of the things that **_I_** was also promised and made to desire and believe I had every right to possess? When it is so much _easier_ for him to be brave, and believe in the best of others, when they are so much less likely to loathe and distrust him? Or mock him for being small and using the arts of sorcery more than sheer brawn in battle? I lashed out in jealousy then more than I ever have, in the past, like any animal in pain.”

The human nodded, feeling sick at the wash of empathic understanding. His own personal experiences hadn’t given him the chance to feel that way, but as the elder of them spoke of it... it was like remembering the taste of fear and pain and worthlessness. It tasted like copper and sour citrus and cold sweat.

“You look uneasy, now. Not so eager to claim we are the same, suddenly?”

“No, we are,” the human said, his voice rough. “I knew I had blood on my hands that I’d forgotten. I even suspected it might be on a large scale. Too many of my skills are... suited to your lifestyle, but here on earth only assassins and soldiers are trained like Asgardian warriors: with skills so honed that killing others can feel almost effortless.” He looked at his own hands for a moment, fingers flexing. “I had hoped... I had hoped I was not so low that I had thoughtlessly killed innocents and children, but I had a feeling, somehow, that the hope was in vain. I now see it very well and truly was.” He offered a pained, mockery of a smile, devoid of all mirth, like the grinning rictus of a long-dead corpse.

The god’s expression faltered for a moment, mask pushed aside by genuine pain and self-hatred.

A flicker of recognition, keen and bitter, crossed the mortal’s face in response, chasing away the forced parody of dire mirth in favor of a flat, steely glare. “I’ve seen that pain before, you know, on another face. A younger one, less jaded, less able to hide from guilt by putting on a mask of indifference. He regrets, more keenly than you or I are fully capable, the blood of children and child-soldiers armed by, and killed by, weapons brought into this world only because he conceived the very idea of them and put them out to market, but even so, you are not so _proud_ of your most monstrous acts that you can _revel_ in the more innocent blood on your hands. You try to forget, try to bluster past it, but it’s wounding you, and if you think that I can’t see that when you try to wound me with the same blade––if you think I cannot see you trying not to loathe your own foolish mistakes for the horrors you’ve committed, and want me to believe you unforgivable _when I have heard and felt the pleas and screams for death and an end to your own pain and loathing_ , as they escaped your lips in our dreams for years now, as you fall through fire and agony, _then you are more fool than I!_ ”

“ _Stop_!” snarled the trickster.

“You can admit that it was a mistake, but you can’t forgive yourself for it, can you? You think you can only inflict more pain and more damage to others, so you try to embrace that, and serve the role of antagonist to teach the universe a lesson, is that it? To make those who made you a monster pay for what they’ve done? What would you be without their light, you _pathetic shadow_ of a god?”

“You know nothing of what has been done to me!”

“I know who you are, and some of what you are.”

The god laughed, at that: brittle and shattered. “You really know nothing of what I truly am.” His appearance shifted to blue skin with raised markings, and bright blood-red eyes. “I have always been a monster. I am always poison and spite and too dissatisfied to allow happiness to persuade me to be good for very long stretches.”

The human stared up at him in mild amazement. “Your children prospered under your care, did they not?"

The god hesitated yet again, Jotunn war-colors fading. "They did."

"We are poison, yes, but to some people, with natural poison in their own souls, we give life, for our natures in combination change us from deadly poisons, to an antidote for those parts of our own toxic nature, and the natures of others like us, when shared. I am in love with poison, but in sharing our venom, we have been healing one another in vital little ways, and becoming stronger than either of us ever were alone. The way you spoke of protecting your children, and what... impressions I glimpse, the whispers of memory here...” He could feel the press of memories close to the surface, but still too heartfelt and personal to the god to reach him, leaving him only the inescapable empathy they shared in dreaming, to work from. “Well... I suspect you and they have similar bonds: with one another you are more powerful than when apart, due to the complimentary shapes and twists of your natures."

"You describe it very rightly, like you remember them. Do you?"

The human shook his head. "I feel what you feel when you think of them, and vague... impressions of personality like someone I met in a different dream, long ago. In terms of relationship dynamics, I'm speaking solely from _my own_ experience. Let _that_ sink in."

“You think he would not flinch from you? Seeing us as we both are?”

“I don’t know. I know the blue-and-red color scheme would only intrigue him as a scientist. What purpose does it serve, by the by?”

“I would rather not discuss Laufey’s kin any further, if avoidable.” The god looked wary, more uneasy then than at any other point in their conversation. "A mortal has done all this? Shaped your determination so?"

"He has," concurred the spy. “I would offer you a trade, perhaps?”

“I’m listening.”

“Give me the knowledge necessary to contact Hel. I will send her a message asking why she is seeking us out, and when we are found by her, I recommend that we both be present, even if one or the other of us be incorporeal but visible, to hear her answer, and respond. _Both_ of us,” the human insisted. “I will not be left in the dark; if she requires aid, we will supply it as best we can in our given circumstances. Should any of your children be in need, I am willing to do the same, for as long as we remain separate, no matter how long that may be. In return, no matter what may happen to us in the years to come, when I do die and we... _cohere_ , if Tony Stark is alive when what is left of us rises from the ashes, _we_ will steal a golden apple from the halls of Asgard, and _gift it to him_ , asking nothing in return, and leaving him unharmed.”

The trickster hummed. “You have already sworn to the apple pledge yourself, I am assuming. You do not trust it will carry?”

“I trust it will _definitely_ carry if we _both_ swear to it, and I know better than to trust you at less than your sworn pledge. I’m you, after all, and if this plan of action were escapable, we might get it into our foolish heads to weasel out of it, especially if we are less coherent than _either_ of us might prefer.”

“I accept your terms. When you wake, you will know how to contact Hel, and will need to start gathering supplies to bolster what weak magic your mortal form is capable of supporting, with so much of myself still held prisoner and dormant.”

“Good.” The human extended a hand, and shivered at the sensation of cold when his older immortal counterpart shook it.

The god stepped back from him then, the image of him starting to fade. "We shall see then."

"I also want your word that you will not force me to meddle with the tesseract not reach for it yourself! You know it’s a terrible idea anyway!"

The trickster tisked, but conceded, "You have my word that I will not." Then he faded entirely.

"Good," the human said into the quiet that followed. "I think."

 

Then all the lights went out and from the darkness came an unfamiliar dream. It was a battle, himself in strange armor like his other self had worn, but more toned down. The landscape all around was icy and cries that registered in his awareness instantly as imperiled allies rose up around him amongst the charging army of large... _Jotunns_ , he realized. They wore their war colors: skin blue and eyes red, their tougher elemental form which allowed them to wield and control ice as well as making their skin denser and harder to damage.

Loki hurled knives at them, tricked them with illusions, and killed several, until one seized his arm hard, icy touch shattering his armor until the Jotunn gripped Loki's firearm. The Mage braced for the searingly agonizing cold burn of frostbite for a second before it registered how enlivening the cold felt on his flesh and he glanced down to see his own skin change to ice-Jotunn war-blue. His opponent saw it too, and looked questioning, just before Loki lashed out and ended his life. He then stared down at his arm, breathing hard, the whole world suddenly crackling around him with distortion and noise that was more tangible than audible. His very skin itched with it and for a moment it was too much effort to breathe, and then the world came back: clear and crisp... so it seemed.

Loki no longer trusted it. He could hear a foundation creaking under unaccustomed strain, threatening to crack, and suspected it was in his own mind more literally than usual.

Fandral gave a cry, as his shoulder and chest were suddenly pierced by blades of ice, snapping the trickster out of his haze. He ran to the aid of the Warrior’s Three, while Thor continued to send enemy after enemy sailing through the air, heedless of his friends’ closer proximity to genuine peril, the great oaf.

Trying to get the thunder god’s attention, once he saw the severity of Fandral’s injuries, was strangely difficult. The winds resisted spells meant to allow his voice to carry loudly in spite of them, like they were stronger than before, or perhaps Loki himself was weaker; in either case, was the primary source of doubt real, or to do with Loki’s own self-doubt?

Why did he doubt himself again?

He caught sight of his own bare forearm, looking almost more blue than pale as he and the other’s ran and clenched his bare hand into a fist, willing himself warmer until he looked as he always had.

Something deep under the ice they ran across creaked and groaned. Rocks became steadily less stable underfoot, and Loki barely broke free of the collapse-radius in time to avoid a nasty fall. Having dodged it himself, he made certain the others had been equally lucky, and stopped Volstagg from being dragged down too far to pull himself out, with a simple grip-aiding spell and a forceful tug at the back of the other man’s armored collar, to let him know he couldn’t claim sole credit for the achievement, as well as to give him a bit of a lift.

Once they were both on their feet, with the aid of the others, Volstagg nodded sharply to him, and squeezed his shoulder firmly in silent thanks. Loki only nodded, dusting extra ice off himself before a loud roar indicated that their world was about to be disturbed further once more. After exchanging glances with each other, he and Volstagg both took off running again to catch up with the others.

The rest was a haze of Thor hitting things with his hammer and flying around a great deal while his friends and brother ran for their lives from a rampaging monstrosity a certain someone’s lack of diplomacy had set upon all of them, despite all of Loki’s vain attempts to reign in the collective bravado of a lot of mad Aesir. How _incredibly familiar_.

Less familiar was, upon escaping such a beast, to be immediately set upon by an impressive number of very large and angry Jotunns, closing in for a final match, no doubt to the death.

Loki was struck a bit by the fact they all seemed to be men, which was rather a change from all the records of war with Laufey and his followers in historical records. He thought about asking, but was distracted by the bi-frost lighting up the ice around them, and Thor saying something cringe-worthy, and Odin managing to shut him up.

After war between Jotunnheim and Asgard had been reinvigorated by Laufey’s hurt pride and stubbornness combined with Thor’s persisting tactlessness, the bi-frost activated again.

And Loki had just enough time to feel his stomach drop with sudden sense of foreboding before-

 

-Loki the human awoke sharply, breathing only a little unevenly; although his heart pounded as though he’d run several miles. The lingering threads of dreaming drifted from him at the feeling of Tony snuffling a little and shifting to re-orient himself slightly on Loki’s chest, since the sudden awakening had caused the taller man to sit up slightly. Absently, the spy stroked his lover’s hair, and tried to calm himself.

He didn’t want to think about what dreaming one of his former-self’s memories might indicate. (The god had said, after all: _I have millennia of my own memories, enough to drown you in!_ ) Loki wanted only for the terror to leave his mind, awhile, and let him think more clearly.

Settling back against his pillow, with his arm holding Tony slightly closer, the spy tried to focus on the quiet of the room, listening to the small nocturnal susurrations from outside the dark room’s walls.

He stared sightlessly up toward the ceiling for almost an hour, reeling between disbelief and mild horror, as well as cataloging the new additions to his personal “To Do” list, which would be necessary for his mortal self (limited as his magic was, with most of the old god sealed away) to send an invitational vision/dream/message to the queen of Helheim. After that lengthy bout of drifting through his own thoughts, still chock full of fresh existential quandary, Loki carefully extricated himself from Tony without waking the younger man, and headed out of the room and downstairs with every intention of taking advantage of his guest status to and raiding one of Howard’s liquor cabinets just a little, to take a bit of the edge off.

He hadn’t expected to find Howard Stark passed out on his own couch surrounded by a haphazard halo of telephony and tablet devices, as well as a few large, rolled-up blueprints. After observing the older inventor for a few long seconds, Loki proceeded past him, heading for the man’s personal not-so-mini bar. He poured himself some promising-looking scotch over ice, took a long swallow, and returned to hover at one end of the couch. After another, slower and more appreciative sip of his drink, Loki picked up one end of a poster-sized blueprint, neatly rolled up and held so by a rubber band, the other end of which he used to poke right at Howard’s exposed throat.

The half-awake and panicked flailing that ensued was spectacular. The world-famous inventor and industrialist even halfway fell off the couch. He might’ve tumbled to the floor altogether if not for how his hands scrambled at the cushions with familiarity and gripped at solid sections of upholstery with claw-like fingers. He swore a brief blue streak, then looked up to see Loki standing nearby with a glass of scotch in one hand and the offending blueprint in the other. The now-smirking spy set down the paper-roll with an air of mild smugness, holding Howard’s gaze steadily all the while. The inventor responded by sitting up further and letting slip an even longer and more fervent string of expletives. The creatively colorful language even included a few mythological references which gave Loki some clue what the older man had been researching, among other things, before sleep took him.

All that the spy offered in response was a long-suffering sigh of, “Why is it that everyone feels a need to bring up the horse? _Every_ time? It’s not even remotely true. In reality I lured the stallion away in that form, initially, but then took my own natural shape and laid a trap for him, managing to land on his back and inflict a pair of makeshift reins, which I clung to for dear life along with the remains of his work-harness, until his mare-inspired madness abated sufficiently for me to steer him away from the construction site and smuggle him into Vanaheim, where he fathered _many_ offspring with _their mares_ , the first and greatest of whom I collected as payment and gifted to Odin to make up for almost losing the bet with Svaðilfari’s owner.”

Howard stared at him for several long seconds in baffled silence. “What?”

Loki blinked a bit, as if only just then realizing quite what he had said, and in what detail, as though he’d only been half-aware while speaking. He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger and exhaled a terse hiss of breath. “My apologies. I just awoke from a rather uncomfortable conversation with myself and a few things are apparently still a bit nearer the surface than I realized. It should wear off soon,” he lied, with as much sincere conviction as in truth he only wished that he felt. It had been like this for a few hours after the incident with the seal; surely it would fade again. It _had_ to.

Lifting his head with a brighter and calmer expression, the spy then added, “The good news is that I’ve gotten his solemn word that he will not meddle with the tesseract even indirectly through my person,” and strode around the couch to the less-occupied end of it. Pushing some of the papers so that they piled between himself and the older inventor instead of occupying the entire two-thirds of the couch that Howard did not, Loki then seated himself on the cleared bit of cushion with all the dignity and entitled air of a feline occupying the lap of someone he knew for certain had an aversion to cats.

Warily, the industrialist watched him. Not even wearing faded black pajama pants and a plain, age-softened sage-green t-shirt, did the spy look even remotely harmless, to Howard’s eye. Even before he had any real confirmation that the dark-haired man might not be entirely human, there was something a bit unnerving about the elegance of his movements and the piercing quality of his cat-green eyes. He moved with all the indolence of a bored yet well-fed panther; and yet he had such a lean and hungry look to him otherwise, especially when he was still; just now however, Loki appeared more thin and wan, and like he had long ago lost his appetite.

With a sigh, Howard asked, “And the bad news?”

“Not bad, not yet, or potentially not at all.” The spy frowned, slightly. “It is inconveniently timed, given how much I already have planned, before adding yet another project into my current life.” He snorted at the very idea. “I have to contact the queen of the land of the dead and ask her why she’s so keen to locate her father suddenly; although thankfully, based on the impressions I managed to skim from the surface of his thoughts in dream, she’s a self-sufficient girl and considerably more stable than her father, so if this were truly very urgent she would have found and cracked me open before now. I can thus infer that her concern is less about what she needs of me than it is out of concern for me, which could be perfectly fine.” He hesitated. “Or _not_.”

“Did you have another few glasses of that before you woke me?”

“No, no.  This is nothing like an alcohol-induced dysphoria. It’s much closer akin to coming down from acid,” Loki responded absently.

Howard stared for a long few moments, watching flickers of indecipherable emotions across the other man’s expressions as the spy downed a heavy swallow of scotch as he stared into the middle-distance for just a moment, before again making eye contact and setting his drink down on the coffee table.

“You were doing well and truly awful things to your neck and spine, sleeping in that position,” he said calmly, changing the subject and explaining himself in one fell swoop. “Another few hours of it and I would not envy the pain you’d wake up to in the morning at all.”

The industrialist rubbed the back of his neck and rolled a kink out of one shoulder with a grimace. “I’m noticing, yeah. You couldn’t have woken me up any other way, though?”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Without maintaining enough distance to avoid potential injury upon your waking?”

“Conceded.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Howard sorting through the pile between them, separating out the blueprints to put them aside on the coffee table, with tablets on either side of the pile to keep them from rolling away.

“What does your... _alter-ego_ think of...” Howard trailed off, gesturing vaguely for a few moments before finally concluding: “You? All of this, I guess?”

“He believes that I am a fool seeking a happiness he considers doomed to failure, out of my own sheer hopeless optimism,” the spy explained in calm, only slightly annoyed tones, though it was clear his annoyance was focused inward, instead of at the older man this time. “I believe that he is trying to avoid becoming more like me as much as possible, out of fear of the pain that shattered hopes have inflicted upon him over and over again throughout his entire very long life before all of this. He might even be considering gravely dangerous forms of blood-magic to surgically separate the parts of mind, heart, and soul that I occupy, so that when I die, he will not risk becoming me; however, I am also instinctively certain that if I so much as mention the idea to his daughter, that she will verbally flay him for it, because she loves her father dearly and such a thing might destroy him as much as brain surgery gone wrong if he makes even the slightest miscalculation... or if I put up more of a fight than he believes me capable, which I certainly would attempt.”

A long silence followed.

Howard blinked a few times in rapid succession, then sighed and ran a hand down over his face slowly and with enough force to drag at his skin, as though he were trying in vain to wipe away his own expression of exasperated resignation. “Finish your drink, and when you refill it, bring me ice in another glass and the bottle. It’s not dawn yet, and we need to talk about far too many things that will make us both deeply uncomfortable.”

Loki also made a face, part-disapproval, part-mild horror, and part-resignation of his own, but didn’t disobey.

Once they both had filled glasses a few minutes later, and were again settled into the couch, both of them drained half of their respective glasses in a few quick swallows, in near-unison despite both of them deliberately not looking at one another.

“Any history of this with other students?” Howard asked coldly.

“ _Fuck_ no,” Loki said instantly, with sincere revulsion. “While teaching was not exactly my first career choice, it is one I did take considerable pride in. I love knowledge, and learning, and the act of teaching youths and preparing them for the real world is something almost sacred to me, atheist though I am. I did not see _any_ of my students as sexually desirable to myself, even Tony, until he made his own interest and desires very clear and forced my perspective to shift, very reluctantly.”

“I’m afraid to ask how that happened, exactly.”

“I don’t exactly want to tell that story either.”

They exchanged uneasy glances.  
Howard sighed. “Tell it.”

After fidgeting with one of the tablets on the cushion between them for a moment, just for something to do with one of his hands, Loki began to do so: “I wasn’t aware of his interest at all, for some while, and in retrospect it was a bit obvious. I was simply... occupied with being his teacher.”

“Pardon my mild disbelief.”

“I don’t blame you,” the spy murmured. “I know how this looks. I’ve been aware from the start, and contributed in no small part to my reluctance.”

“I sense a ‘but’ here.”

“Only eventually. Not at the start.” He cleared his throat. “It was beyond me to consider that Tony’s future, bright and astonishing as it was blatantly obvious to me was inevitable for him, would ever include myself. I considered my place in his life one of a temporary advisor, and while I admired his intellect and potential, it was with a professional distance. I only looked forward to hearing about his accomplishments, and hoping perhaps not to be forgotten. That was all I wanted.” Loki swirled his drink thoughtfully and took a slower, more appreciative sip. “I’m not actually sure when he began cyber-stalking me and digging into my background, my past, and also my present, in the form of my professional life _outside_ of teaching, but he learned all that he could about me, all whilst I was unawares. That was part of how it began.” Already all-too-keenly aware of where this conversation would end up, he then finished his glass and refilled it to fortify himself against the inevitable awkwardness to come.

“I’m somehow not surprised. You’re a puzzle, and he’s lived with me long enough to see the sort of holes in people’s backstories and histories that indicate there might be dangerous secretive omissions happening. That doesn’t explain how well you implied that you knew him, for what I suspect was a long while before...” He gestured vaguely. “ _Before_.”

The spy nodded. “It was clear to me from the time he arrived at the school, that he was light-years ahead of the rest of the students and faculty. He was not in any of my classes then, but he was well-known amongst _all_ of the faculty as something of an irrepressible trouble-maker within his first few weeks there, and his borderline-delinquent behaviors as well as his intellect led most of his teachers to seek out advice and aid. Principal Coulson had long before that gotten it into his head that I had a certain way with more wayward youths, which I can only attribute to the way that I approach them. I don’t bother telling disobedient students that whatever indiscretions they are engaging in are wrong, I simply criticize their handling of it, and offer them advice on not getting caught, leaving minimal evidence, and doing the least harm to themselves and others; although if it was apparent to me that their _goal_ was to harm others, I would scare them out of their wits in a calm and vaguely sociopathic fashion before dragging them to speak with Coulson, to leave them with the inescapable impression that they might want to reconsider their more monstrous behavior, knowing that there are far worse monsters to compete with in this world.”

Howard considered that, with a thoughtful nod. “So they assigned you to work out how to deal with him?”

“No. Other teachers thought I was a bit too loose insofar as discipline, and lacked a certain degree of genuine respect for authority; while not incorrect, these assumptions did not make them inclined to go to me for aid in dealing with Tony, even though Coulson recommended me to most of them. Thus, Ms. Romanoff was asked to evaluate him and potentially work out a means of both holding his attention in classes, and preventing him causing mild havoc when bored. After a week, she told every one of Tony’s teachers individually that I would be designing an altered version of the curriculum for Tony to follow, to keep him actually engaged and interested in classes. Officially, she was considered his secret and highly-unofficial parole officer, but in reality she basically delegated all of the expected tasks that came with that, to me.”

“She couldn’t handle him?”

“She could have, but really didn’t want to.” Loki smiled a bit fondly. “He was in her martial arts class, that year, and she insisted that he annoyed her in all of the same ways that I do. She concluded that I deserved such a ‘dose of my own medicine’ as being aid to all of his teachers would entail. I suspect this was in reference to his irreverent and constant wellspring of one-liners during her class.”

Howard snorted, amused despite himself. “So she likes you.”

“We work well together, and have a healthy amount of affectionately-collected blackmail, against one another, from over the past few years, like many long-term co-workers under contract with S.H.I.E.L.D.,” the spy admitted. “Nothing much beyond that. I would trust her with my life personally, but not professionally, and only would trust my career in her hands insofar as her own might depend upon the success of mine too.”

“You were assigned to aid people who had to deal with him directly, but that doesn’t explain quite how you know as much about his personal life, and mine, as you do. Not even your hacking capabilities could quite garner you that.”

“Right. Yes. In the first year of his attendance at the school we didn’t speak as much of serious topics. Miss Potts was in one of my classes that year, and he tended to drift into my classroom and sit beside her during his lunch period. He would occasionally provide commentary on my lessons, or the answers I gave to questioning students, but he did not see me as more than just another teacher until near the end of the first semester. He discovered a location I frequented, when I did not wish to be observed:  perfect niche on the rooftop of two interconnected school buildings, out of sight of all personnel and open-air besides. We... both shared a mutual indiscretion in the form of smoking.” He cleared his throat softly. “He was in the place I had always chose to smoke in myself in, ever since I had first mapped out all available campus buildings. I knew exactly how he had chosen that spot, and for so young a person the feat was impressive, so I approached him with acceptance and light banter, and lit up myself. We began to meet there on a weekly basis, never on the same day of any given week, just whenever we both happened to be so inclined. We would discuss his lessons, philosophy, and the like, that first year. Nothing more.”

“Not tobacco?” Howard asked, a little shrewdly.

Another throat-clearing. “No.”

“Thank god for that. I had a lung cancer scare because of that stuff, just last year.”

“I know. He was more affected by it than you may realize.”

“He... wasn’t even supposed to know.”

“Learn this now: you can hide nothing from him, anymore, especially with how aware he is by now that concealing things from him is your habit more often than is frank discussion. He already now is in the habit of looking for those things you omit, and the best way to regain his trust and respect would be to work to change your own ways, and thus show you respect all that he is capable of doing, and handling maturely. Especially given that he’s known how to crack through almost all of your security since he was twelve.”

Howard swore at length and finished off his drink, then refilled the glass.

Loki finished half of the remainder of his own, even as he offered the other man a careless shrug.

“How did he trust you with stuff like _this_?”

At that question, the spy made a face, briefly. “Well, it didn’t start with this particular variety of personal information, exactly.”

The industrialist hesitated. “He started out asking you about-”

“Advice in relation to his enthusiastically sexually active lifestyle at that time, yes,” Loki concluded for him.

“Christ,” Howard muttered.

Loki nodded. “By the time that he reached the second semester of his first year at the school, he already had something of a reputation for promiscuity. I didn’t particularly want to know that, but it was brought up by more ‘concerned’ and ‘worried’ persons in the teacher’s lounge with enough frequency that my hearing of it was inevitable. I didn’t think much of it until an unfortunate incident wherein I realized he was occupied with another young man in a precariously public location.”

“Of course,” Howard muttered, and drained half of his glass.

Grimacing a bit in amusement and embarrassment alike, Loki shook his head at the memory. “I saw nothing, but suffice it to say that the acoustics of the chosen location were what made it precarious. I locked the door and waited outside it, glaring at any students who approached to dissuade them and keeping an eye out for any other faculty. Tony was the first to exit, saying something about not recalling locking the door, which provided me an excellent segue into a lecture about discretion and reasons why that particular location was also unsanitary and crude. It was the first occasion I had ever seen him genuinely embarrassed and repentant. We discussed it later, and he was surprised, it seemed, by how understanding I was. Being pansexual and hedonistic myself in my private life, I was able to provide him more practical advice, both in tryst-logistics as well as genuine advice for the emotional and interpersonal repercussions of his habits as they were, at the time. He began to open up to me about other concerns he had, after that, first when it came to helping him provide his closest friends with emotional support when they struggled to overcome barriers Tony himself had never encountered, leading a privileged life as he has, to his own self-doubts at times he was particularly low. We became rather good friends, and he somehow acquired my cellphone number, with which he even texted me for further advice on some matters over that summer, particularly his feelings for one Pepper Potts.”

“I see,” Howard murmured. It was disconcerting, hearing all of this, and how much his son had clearly opened up to this man. “Pepper was good for him. I could tell that much. She still is.”

Loki nodded. “Yes. She is a uniquely intelligent and caring individual. He was scared out of his mind, at first, when he realized he was actually falling for her. I told him rather bluntly that he had already fallen, and it was only fear holding him back from telling her. That was... the second semester of his second year. They lasted into the _next_ year, but when things fell apart and they drifted, he did become more destructive, for a time. I worried for him. He was far too reckless.”

“I was more worried by the lack of angry calls from the principal than I would’ve been by hearing more about it, when someone finally told me they had broken up,” Howard said quietly. “Were you hiding things for him?”

The spy shook his head. “No. I tried to act more preemptively. By that point, I knew him well enough to see when he intended to act out, and could usually deduce how, and either show up myself, or arrange for Rhodes or Pepper to be too near some key target or resource necessary to his plans. He did attempt to fight me physically on one occasion I did that, but I was able to restrain him quickly, and didn’t report it.” He recalled the hold by which he’d pinned the younger man to the wall, just keeping him in place not-quite-gently, letting Tony get his breath back, only for it to turn into sobs. Loki had felt like a monster, then, and let go, letting the student wrap his arms around his own waist and lean against the wall where Loki had left him, as he pulled himself together under the teacher’s watchful, patient and all-too-understanding gaze.

Howard nodded lightly. “Thank you.”

Loki shook his head. “He was more than worth the effort. He still is. He is a marvel, and I’m humbled daily by the trust that he places in me.”

“When did the... nature of that trust change, exactly?”

“I’m not certain. After his breakup with Pepper and a return to his prior habitual promiscuity, it seemed to me as though he had simply mellowed out a little in his overtly hedonistic behavior over the summer. By then, it was his last year of school, and he was taking his third year of advanced computer science and programming with me, and nothing seemed too different, at first. Halfway through the first semester, he stopped flirting around, and sleeping around, but I didn’t question why. He seemed healthier again, and enthusiastic in his learning again as he hadn’t been since breaking up with Pepper, and she was once more one of his close friends and confidants.” He shrugged. “All seemed normal enough by our bizarre standards, until a particular incident one Monday in November, over which I was accused of several degrees of misconduct, mostly to prevent any of my personal enemies or S.H.I.E.L.D.’s, or anyone of the various people who believe that I am actually their ally against S.H.I.E.L.D., to know who it was with me at the time causing more than half of the havoc that was wrought that night.”

Howard’s eyes widened a little. “I remember that incident. He was there?”

“He... had been stalking me, and worked out what I had been doing, and that I was actually in more grave peril than I had realized, going in. I would have survived it, on my own––probably. Most likely.” He cleared his throat. “I’m ninety-percent certain, anyway, but he apparently was not so. I don’t entirely blame him, but at the time I was livid that he’d put himself at such risk, and had potentially embroiled himself into a war that he should’ve had no part in for a few more years at the least, and also the fact that he had nearly got us both caught more than once.” The spy then knocked back the last of his drink and refilled his glass again with a nervous swiftness.

Howard shook his head, swearing under his breath. “Then what?”

Loki shot him a mildly incredulous look. “This might be uncomfortable for you to hear, and I’m telling you now that the mere idea of telling you this is making me want to flee from the room.”

The industrialist took another sip of his drink. “Just say it.”

The spy drained his drink and refilled it, then held up a hand, waiting just a minute until the heat of the liquor in his stomach spread a bit and he could feel it forcing him to relax, and making fear and awkwardness both a little more bearable. “He confessed that two of those occasions we had nearly gotten caught were due to his being distracted by sexual attraction to me,” Loki said dryly. “I had no idea how to respond to that, but he...”

Trailing off, the spy ran a hand through his hair, looking guilty for a moment, then half-smiling with a bitterly unrepentant expression. “I was caught off-guard by it. I told him that there would be nothing of that sort between us, but he was rather persistent. I had, after all, treated him as a responsible sexually active adult for most of our acquaintance and he demanded to know what made this different. He insisted that he was certain of exactly what he wanted, and equally certain that he trusted me to do nothing he did not wish me to, and I have done everything I possibly can to live up to that trust.”

“But you still gave in?”

“He memorized a poem from the _Devil’s Dictionary_ for me. Even more than that, he’s a marvel, as I’ve said before, and once he had shifted my perspective to seeing him as wanting me, and he’d reminded me that our friendship as it stood already was deeper and more personal than that between a student and teacher most likely should be, because of how we compliment one another in personality and intellect... I could not escape seeing him as a willing adult I wanted more of in my life.”

“Despite it being against the law?”

“Everything about my professional life outside of teaching has the potential to backfire and get me arrested for treason against the United States and Norway both. I had smoked marijuana with other members of faculty, and one student at that school. My past, at that point, was mystery enough to me that for all I knew, I had already done more unthinkable things than I might ever dare fully imagine,” Loki said coldly. “The law was not my concern. My concerns were with Tony’s happiness, and the place he had made for himself in my life without me noticing how much I cared for him already because even before then I knew it was selfish to dare covet the attentions paid to me by someone as brilliant and with such a bright future as Tony Stark. I knew him well enough to see that he would go to great and terrible lengths to prove himself if I continued to tell him no, despite my desire to say yes. Was I wrong to make such a call as that? To prevent him from showing more people than just myself just how little he himself thought of the law and propriety altogether, when it stood in his way like it did for us then?”

Howard grimaced. “Fair enough. He does tend to... _push_.”

Loki shot him a look. “It was far more than that. I could have resisted that. He was insistent, but I was also more than receptive to his, hmm, rhetoric.”

The older inventor grimaced a little. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Aside from that, we... discussed all aspects of our respective situations and desires at length. I also shared the parts of my own personal history missing from the records he had found of my past by that point, and how I have, as long as I can remember, found myself more difficult to trust than other people, in many ways. He was of the age of consent, and knew everything he would be getting into. I did my best to scare him away, but I could not lie to him. He stayed, and would not let me ignore what he wanted from me.”

“Not just sex.”

“No. Far from that.”

Howard finished off his own drink and set the glass on the table, slumping back against the couch. He was barely tipsy, but could tell the former-god was barely holding together enough composure to maintain his posture and not sway, as Loki took another slower sip from his remaining drink. “This is a mess.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t care though?”

“I care. I just also consider it worthwhile regardless. I’m selfish, deep down, but Tony has a unique way of bringing out my most selfish qualities in ways which make me protective of him.”

“I noticed the protectiveness yeah. So did the bruising on my arm.”

“You lashed out first, to be fair.”

“After you deliberately provoked me.”

Loki shrugged. “And?”

Howard glared at him, even as he thought it over, and shook his head. He couldn’t complain, not really. Not when he’d lashed out at a known-to-be-paranoid S.H.I.E.L.D. contractor, and not when he recalled just how total Loki’s obedience had been, when Tony had asked him to stop. “You stopped when he asked,” he pointed out.

“I did.”

“Does he usually boss you around?”

Loki smiled in a manner just a little more self-satisfied than he really meant to. He would later blame the alcohol. “Not often, no. Only on the rare occasion I act in a way he does not approve of.” The suggestion that Tony usually approved very much of Loki’s behavior when they were together hung in the air.

Howard grimaced a bit, but nodded. “Fair enough.”

“I do love him with all my heart, sir,” the spy said, very quietly.

The industrialist raised both eyebrows in surprise, examining the spy’s all-too open expression for a moment, and how it showed a lingering mixture of wariness, and fear of retaliation and what Howard might be capable of if the industrialist really put his mind to getting rid of the likes of Loki. “I’m starting to get that.”

“I do not wish to go to war with you over it.”

“I don’t want to lose my son,” Howard countered. “So I somehow don’t think that would be an option, even if I wanted it to be.”

The spy continued to stare at him almost nervously.

“Look, it’s going to take me a while to come to terms with this, but as far as I can tell, you’re probably going to be better at keeping him safe than any bodyguard I could ever hope to find for hire, and he wants to keep you in his life with enough devotion that I honestly don’t want to know what he might do if I tried to even just persuade him against this whole idea, let alone actually put effort into it.” He rubbed his eyes with one hand for a moment and looked at Loki again. “Just... keep doing right by him and I won’t have to come up with a way to assassinate you and entrap a fresh-woken god. The logistics alone are giving me a headache to think about.”

Some of the tension visibly bled out of Loki’s shoulders and the spy exhaled a long, relieved sigh. “Okay.” He looked down at the floor, then. “Thank you, Howard, for listening.”

“So what exactly do you need to do to contact this queen of the land of the dead, exactly?”

Loki considered. He wanted to wait until Tony awoke, to run it by him, but was already fairly sure that his lover would agree, and understand. “I need a few things. My own capabilities, where magic is concerned, are very minimal. Most of that power is sealed away along with the rest of who and what I once was.”

Howard pulled one of his tablets into his lap and tapped a few commands into it. “Let’s get a list started.”

Blinking a bit in shock, the spy slowly began to list the spell ingredients he would need, watching Howard search for what the on earth they even were, then proceed to seek out means to acquire them.

 

~~

 

An hour after dawn, and all that Loki needed had been ordered from various sources, and would be delivered by late afternoon. Howard went to his bed, and Loki returned to Tony’s.

The younger man murmured and half-woke when his lover returned to bed and frowned at him. “Where’d you go?”

“I could not sleep, and wound up having a very long and awkward conversation, after which I seem to have garnered your father’s blessing.”

Tony woke up fully at that. “ _What?!_ ” He resisted a little when Loki tried to pull his head back down. “You smell like mouthwash with a hint of whiskey.”

Loki slumped back with a tired sigh. “It was a deeply uncomfortable conversation, but not at all explicit. Strictly accusatory and making certain my intentions toward you were never predatory. He’s your father; I expected no less.”

The younger man stared at him wide-eyed for a long few moments. “You really... what exactly did you tell him?” He sounded uneasy, and as though he were uncertain whether or not he really wanted to know.

“How I fell in love with you, without going into any detail as to what happened after I became amenable to the idea,” Loki assured. “That’s all.” A pause. “Well, I mentioned how we got to know one another over your high school career, but only the heavily abridged version.”

Tony exhaled a long breath. “Okay. Great?”

“I’m just content it was non-lethal for all concerned.”

“I’m happy about that too, yeah.” He then let the taller man pull him down so that they lay tangled up with one another once more. A content sigh escaped him despite his lingering anxiousness.

“I suppose this wouldn’t be the best time to mention that I had another conversation with my other self before that?”

“Actually, that’s both easier for me to think about and a good distraction. What happened?”

“His daughter is trying to reach him. He wants to know why.”

“His _daughter_?”

“She’s queen of Helheim, the land of the dead, you may recall.”

“Oh. Important, then.”

“He cares very deeply for his children,” Loki murmured. “What true love and devotion he is capable of is reflected in his treatment of them. I offered to aid him, in exchange for knowledge, and his solemn word.”

“Solemn word for what?”

The spy said only, “He will not try to use or affect the tesseract.”

“Good idea.”

“I thought so.”

“What else?”

Loki blinked. “Pardon?” He managed to sound sincerely incredulous.

Tony still didn’t buy it. “You change your syntax to facilitate certain types of omission. I’ve caught you at it once or twice before, but I get the feeling this is actually serious.”

The spy stared at him for a long few moments, stunned.

“You okay, Loki?”

Loki opened his mouth, then shut it, grinning with helpless fondness and a bit of awe. “No one has ever caught that before. Not even... not even those who know me well.”

“As a reward, do you want to tell me what you’re trying not to mention?”

“I... asked for a particular boon, in the event of my death. With gods like him... when he swears his solemn word, he has to keep it. Oath-breaking can be lethal to them; it’s in the magic they are tangled up with.” He shook his head. “If I swear that oath, as Loki, he should be compelled, even if I am technically dead, for I’d have been reintegrated into his mind and soul; however, because I’m currently mortal, it would be a weaker compulsion, and I couldn’t be certain that it would work.”

“What favor could you really want, after you’re dead?”

“For you to live,” Loki said, without hesitation.

Tony froze, then, staring in a wide-eyed manner suggesting he had not been anticipating anything like that. “ _Oh_.” Then he suddenly got slightly irritated. “Hang on a second-”

The spy glared at him slightly. “Don’t.”

“I mean, I know we’re––but you can’t think I’d-”

“The boon I requested is meant to see you become as close to immortal as he ever has been,” Loki snapped quietly, like it was torn from him. “If you’re as difficult to destroy and long-lived as he... I believe that could bring me back. _You_ could draw me back out no matter how he might try to drown me. He could not call loving you a false hope, and he is too strong, too _willfully_ able to believe that happiness for someone like himself is impossible, and you are too perfectly appealing for him to be unafraid to believe in and desire.” He pulled Tony in close despite the younger man remaining almost stiff with tension. “I meant it, when I suggested that I can imagine no future for myself not made brighter for having more of you in it. If my future fate includes to becoming as long-lived as a god, I would not face that without you to keep pace with me, Tony. I selfishly desire that, even if I may not be myself as I am now when it might ever go into effect.”

“With time, I might not be either,” Tony said softly. “That kind of time.” His voice sounded oddly distant and awestruck. “You’d really... Loki...”

“If you... don’t-”

The younger man put a hand over his mouth instantly. “I’m trying to come up with words for my feelings right now, but I don’t think they’ve been properly invented yet, but let me have a second to give it a try,” he said. Then he took a deep breath, and let it out. “I know you don’t like me thanking you for things you do, but I have to this time. This is more than love, with you, even. It’s what you’d give me even if I didn’t love you too, and it hurts my heart at the same time you make me feel ridiculously elated and happy. I love you and you’re astonishing.” He took his hand off Loki’s mouth and kissed him firmly, and almost reverently, just for a moment. “Okay?”

“More than,” the spy rasped, and pulled him back down sharply for a deeper and hungrier kiss. Every doubt and every hope and every ounce of love and devotion he had to offer, he tried to put into the kiss, and lost himself in it utterly, until his mind was a haze of affection and heat and comfort. When they broke apart to breathe, Loki couldn’t let his lover go. He didn’t even want to try.

Tony seemed to be find with it. “I’m so glad you get me.”

“I could say the same,” Loki murmured. “You read me as no one else ever has. I’ve never been understood so.”

“Me neither.” Tony kissed the corner of his mouth. “I love it, though.”

“Me too,” Loki concurred.

“So what do you have to do to summon your daughter?”

The spy winced a bit at the phrasing. “I’ve personally never met her, please don’t call her that right now. I have never felt my libido shut down so quickly in my life, and I’m rather discomfited by it.”

Tony sniggered. “Just making sure I get answers before rewarding you for your honesty by begging you to fuck me until I come more than once, if you think you can?” He fluttered his eyelashes almost coquettishly.

Loki’s mouth watered despite himself. “Oh, I see.”

The young inventor grinned beatifically at him. “So. Do tell.”

Slowly, the spy broke down the materials he would need, the fact all of them would arrive by afternoon, and what he would need to do with them over the course of a few hours for the actual spell-casting. He summarized it all as succinctly and quickly as possible, and as soon as he finished, he flipped them over on the bed, so that Tony was sprawled over the sheets beneath him, smirking at his pet’s pliancy. “Will that suffice, Tony my love?”

“Wow that’s so much hotter-sounding than I thought it would be, you sound like a knight or something speaking to your k-” He then cut off with a low moan as the spy ground their hips together hard and slow and merciless. “ _F-fuck_ , Loki...”

“I am no more a knight than you are a damsel,” Loki purred. “You are my treasure, and I am your dragon. My strength, my claws, my fire and my wings are all yours.” He trailed kisses up the younger man’s throat to his jaw. “You are a treasure as dangerous as you are valuable, and you do not _need_ a dragon to guard you, but we do know that you desire one, for you have a soul of unquenchable fire, and how could you not love a dragon? And how could I ever not love you?”

Tony shuddered both at the words and the feel of two of Loki’s talented finger, slick and insistent, sliding into his ass and stretching him open. “How do you still talk like that when y-you’re, you–– _fuck yes, don’t stop, don’t stop, please!_ ” He rocked his hips down for more when the spy’s fingers focused relentless attention right against his prostate. “Sir, please.”

“Please what, Pet? Do tell, in detail.”

“P-please fuck me.”

“ _Detail_ ,” Loki repeated, a little chiding.

“F-fuck me long past the p-point of pain, I want y-you to force me over the edge and so far past it I can’t help screaming, just please don’t stop, please, Loki, please,” Tony moaned, low and desperate. “Please fuck me until I come and then until I come again, make me feel it.”

The spy emitted a low, helplessly aroused noise and bit hard at his lover’s shoulder. “As my pet wishes,” he promised, adding a third finger and pumping in and out of Tony faster, then, relentless and focused. “You will shatter for me.”

With a keening moan, the younger man rocked his hips down hard, repeatedly, to get more from those fingers, admiring how it made Loki’s pupil’s dilate further still, and Loki’s mouth hang slightly open, his clever tongue visibly pressing its tip against Loki’s own teeth as he held himself in control, while meticulously taking Tony’s control apart piece by piece. Then suddenly Loki had pinned his hips down hard with his free hand, his whole weight pressing downward at just the right angle to prevent the younger man’s pelvis from moving altogether, and his other hand moved only very slowly, those three fingers dragging across Tony’s prostate with only enough pressure to tease, nothing nearly enough to satisfy. After several long minutes of it, the younger man couldn’t stop trembling and was on the verge of tears.

“Oh fuck,” Tony whispered. “Sir please, please I need more, please.”

“Patience, my pet.”

A whine, high and long escaped the inventor’s throat as he struggled in vain against Loki’s restrictive hold, and those fingers continued to taunt him, leaving him aching. Those fingers had already almost bruised him, and that sore tenderness made the throbbing that much headier, that much more gut-wrenchingly intense with each too-gentle scrape of Loki’s fingertips right over the tender spot inside him that most needed more pressure and friction. So lost in the attempt to get more from Loki’s fingers was he that the sudden lick of tongue along the underside of his cock, from base to tip, caught him entirely off-guard and made him almost scream.

“You will come the moment I enter you,” Loki promised. “You need me so, don’t you, pet? You ache for me, your flesh needy and hungering. Can you feel it yet? Is the need so strong that the pain of it almost compares to being bruised by me? Do you ache for me so much that the need is almost as good as being touched?”

A strangled noise escaped Tony as the spy’s words made him all the more aware of how much his nerves were sensitized, positively throbbing as heat pooled low in his belly. With Loki’s fingers inside him too gentle, but still touching where he needed touch, he could feel the ache of it from the base of his cock to his prostate and deeper still. “Yes,” he whined. “Fuck, Loki, it hurts, please, I need you, I want your hurt, n-not t-to f-f-feel so empty _please_.” As the minutes stretched on, the teasing all too endless, he kept pleading, losing track of his words and when exactly they lost coherency altogether and became mere whining syllables. He didn’t know how long he’d been held on-edge like this anymore, his brilliant mind reduced down entirely to inarticulate noises of need.

Tony emitted a choked-off sob when too-gentle lips settled around the head of his cock, just holding him there, no suction, just the lightest swirl of tongue that made the ache of need within and without almost crest. He almost _came_ just from _wanting and promise_ and that thought alone sent a spasm through him, all of his muscles tightening. It took every scrap of will power he had left not to come yet, without permission, without what he _really wanted_. “N-no, fuck, want you _in me_ b-b’fore I c-come, Loki sir, please let me, please,” he sobbed.

Loki’s tongue swirled over the head of his cock three more times, slow and unhurried, savoring the trickle of precome that escaped as he worked, humming low in his throat as though savoring the sweetest of delicacies.

Tony threw his head back, his whole body shuddering as his muscles spasmed and he barely held out, sobbing louder when his lover’s fingers stilled for a few moments and then slowly––such a merciless and maddening withdrawal, leaving him wholly empty and desperate––pulled out. When Loki’s tongue flicked over the head of his cock again, Tony could only emit a helpless little wail, followed by sobbing that shook his whole body, every single muscle trembling, all thought gone from his mind except the single phrase on endless repeat: _I need, I need, I need..._

He couldn’t even properly remember what he needed, even as Loki stretched over him again and kissed his lips gently, then licked at the tears that kept running down his face. “My poor pet, my poor pet. Do you need me to stop?”

“NO!” Tony screamed, every muscle in his body going bowstring-taut. “N-no no no no, don’t, please, more, please Loki, please,” he begged, his voice heavy and slurred with weeping. He emitted a higher sound, an irrepressible whine, when he felt his lover’s tongue follow the saline trail of some of his tears from where they had collected at the crease of his collarbone, up his throat, over the line of his jaw, up his cheek to the outer corner of his eye.

“You look shattered already, love,” Loki purred, low and with infinite affection and ardor in his voice. “But I would not force you, would never hurt you. I need you to tell me you are alright, for your tears worry me.”

“Don’t you dare stop,” Tony whimpered. “Don’t you dare. I want this, I want you, Loki, please, _p-please L-_ ” His breath hitched, caught, and escaped him in a blissed-out scream as Loki suddenly pushed into him hard and all at once, all the way to the hilt and began fucking him so hard the bed-frame creaked in apparent dismay. The scream formed the syllables of Loki’s name as Tony came so hard his vision went white.

He lost coherency further as Loki only continued to fuck him through it so hard he saw whole galaxies worth of stars and Tony could feel his own throat burning with his intermittent screams of bliss and pain and exquisite satisfaction, heat boiling over in him and searing him and then–– _oh too much, too much too much_. Tony writhed as pleasure became pain, all of his flesh hyper-sensitive and painfully pushed over the knife’s edge of _too much, too much_.

Tony was sobbing again, his writhing less enthusiastic, but he didn’t call a halt. He writhed and he cried and his whole body shuddered and jerked and ached, but he loved it. The pain hit him deep and all-consuming and he couldn’t think at all anymore, could only let it all wash over him as Loki kept fucking him.

He drifted up into more coherent awareness at the sound of Loki’s voice, praising him for his endurance, for his surrender, for the beauty of his pain and how humbled Loki was by his desire. Tony gripped his lover’s upper arms hard, clinging for dear life as he tried to drag himself back from the edge, but time was out of joint. He couldn’t think, he could only writhe and gasp, overwhelmed by sharp pangs of ache and spasming pain through his whole body, but he burned for it, longed for more, and loved how drowned he felt, how secure he felt so long as he kept hold of Loki. Loki wouldn’t let him stay so lost he couldn’t find his way back, and with that knowledge Tony let himself go utterly, let slip all control and hesitation and gave himself up for lost.

It was heady, the surrender of everything, the blankness of it, comprised of two-parts pain and one-part unspeakable bliss, except that the pain felt just as good as the bliss, if not better. The pain kept him connected to his body even as the bliss rolled over him and made him limp and pliant and helpless. The pain anchored him to his body, and Loki’s increasingly-disjointed yet reverent praises kept the bliss throbbing up through him, transforming the pain slowly, inexorably, until Tony was nothing but a shuddering wreck, as the searing ache of _too much pain_ all too sharply became sharp stabs of pleasure where he was most sensitive, most overwrought.

Having lost all sense of the passage of time, Tony had no idea that almost half an hour passed as Loki fucked into him, hard and deep. He only knew the instant that orgasm threatened again, he screamed louder than he ever had in his life to date. He felt Loki’s mouth cover his, stifling the sound and smothering him in heat and closeness that made the overwhelmingly sharp, piercing pleasure of his second orgasm that much more overwhelming.

Tony flew apart into a thousand pieces when he heard and felt Loki’s helpless, breathless moans into his mouth, as the spy came hard inside him. That was all Tony needed: the additional slick and heat making him feel even more used, even more thoroughly claimed. The sensation sent a hard spasm through Tony’s whole lower body, and with a low cry, he came again, though his cock had barely anything left to give save a bit more precome as he did.

Loki knew, of course he knew, and the awed reverence of his voice as he trailed light, open-mouthed kisses over his lover’s face, left Tony entirely boneless and sated, his whole body feeling like one giant, well-earned and satisfied bruise, as Loki stroked him all over, gentle and inspecting him for any signs of injury or reluctance.

When the spy finally slipped out of him, Tony whimpered, but then sighed, feeling his body struggle to close in his lover’s absence. So many reminders, so many sweet marks making him feel claimed and loved and treasured.

_You are my treasure and I am your dragon._

“Yer perfect,” Tony mumbled.

Loki kissed the corner of his mouth as he cleaned them both up with his own discarded t-shirt. “You are well?”

“I feel perfect, ‘cause I feel like ‘m yours.”

A raggedly breathless noise escaped Loki before he kissed his lover again, soft and gentle and lovely. “I am yours because you will have me, Tony. Yours because I am better in your possession than I am any other way,” he whispered. “I love you, Tony Stark, and I would be yours forever.”

“You have me,” Tony assured, arms weakly managing to raise themselves just enough to clumsily settle around the older man’s waist and cling with what scant strength he had left. “Always.”

Loki kissed his lips gently. “Rest, then, my love. We have time.”

“Stay,” the younger man insisted petulantly.

“I am here. I will remain here, until you wake again and drag me out of this bed with you,” the spy promised, kissing Tony’s forehead, then his nose, and the end of his chin. “So rest.”

So Tony did, letting himself slip into deep, dreamless slumber to the sound of Loki’s slowing breaths growing even as he too surrendered to sleep. He felt safe, and cherished, and happier than he had ever been, and that was more than enough. That was perfection.

 

~~

 

Howard wasn’t entirely surprised when he didn’t see either Tony, or his son’s older lover until an hour or so after noon.

He was a little surprised to find Tony on his own, looking expectant when he barged into his father’s lab.

“Jarvis says you haven’t eaten yet today, so you’re having lunch now,” the younger Stark said. It was a demand, and not one which left any room for argument. “C’mon.”

So the elder inventor followed his son to the kitchen, and they both sat down and split a plate of crustless sandwiches filled with Jarvis’ fantastic cranberry-laced tarragon chicken salad.

“You had a heart-to-heart with Loki, then?” Tony asked.

“I did.”

“I’m keeping him,” his son insisted.

“I can’t stop you, obviously,” Howard agreed. “And the more I get to know him, and see you both as you are, and think on it, the less I want to.”

Tony looked  a bit surprised. If not for the intense relief in his look, he might even seem to be outright scandalized. “Really?”

“He’s as protective of you as I ever should’ve been, while still clearly respecting your capabilities and the fact you could easily take care of yourself without him,” Howard said dryly. “Despite trying very, very hard to do so, I can’t even begin to convince myself that he’s in any way bad for you, aside from how inconvenient this is going to be insofar as dealing with the press, which honestly?” He shrugged. “Fuck the press sideways with a telephone pole. We’ve weathered far worse.” He then looked at his son a bit critically and made a face. “Not that the current array of colorful marks on your neck and jawline don’t disconcert me, but that’s what make-up artists are for.”

His son blushed only slightly and cleared his throat. “Good. Uhm. Thank you?” He sounded a little strangled.

“You sound like I’m still missing something.”

“Uhm. I... don’t know if you really want to know.”

“Is this about the racket Jarvis mentioned hearing from your room earlier?”

“Yeah, there’s that...”

“I’m not sure I want to know, either.”

“It’s not something we’ll ever be telling the press, ever, ever, ever?”

Howard shot him a disconcerted look. “I now know I don’t want to know, but that I probably should.”

“He... uhm.” Tony cleared his throat. “Look, the way I told it to Rhodey is that I needed him to understand that there are things about my uh, relationship with him that might look bad, to anyone who doesn’t know I’m an enthusiastic fan of them, and that Loki would absolutely stop the very _second_ I stopped being okay with them. So. I’m sort of uhm. I’m uh. I’m a submissive, and I really like him being very very dominant, and it’s all healthy and consensual and nothing that I don’t want, and everything that I uhm, kind of actually need, sometimes, to feel like myself, and to feel secure. Okay?”

His father shot him a slightly pained look. “Well, I was right about not wanting to really know that, really.”

Tony looked genuinely uncomfortable, then, almost ashamed. “S-sorry.”

“Look-” Howard started, then stopped. “I’m only uncomfortable because this is all really unfamiliar to me, and also it’s your sex life, and the fewer details I have to hear about, the better, because you’re my son. That said, I’m glad you told me, because the potential for really unpleasant misunderstandings there is definitely a factor, but the fact this is... Just so long as it is nothing you don’t want, and you’re happy, I can’t say I disapprove of it. I’m just uncomfortable with any and all mental images associated with it, as much as you’d be uncomfortable with knowing anything of the sort about _my_ sex life.”

Tony looked disgusted for a second, then outright horrified. “Please, _please_ tell me this is _not_ something we have in common.”

“It is not,” the older inventor assured.

“Oh thank Kinsey,” Tony muttered. “I don’t think I could cope with that.”

“I’ve been... involved with people whose interests in that were obvious, but I’ve never really understood it myself. Either, uh, dominant or submissive,” Howard said, grimacing more and more with each word. “Nor do I want an explanation from you. I’m fine just knowing you’re happy, and healthy, and that we have the resources necessary to keep this far away from the media spotlight.”

“I’m so relieved to hear that, you have no idea,” his son muttered.

“Right.” Howard cleared his throat. “Let us never speak of this again.”

“Agreed,” Tony said, with deeply relieved enthusiasm.

“That said,” his father began, and smiled a bit bitterly despite himself at the pained-and-uneasy look the younger inventor shot him. “He mentioned that you were rather insistent, in your pursuit of him.”

“I was. I am,” Tony concurred, waiting for the catch to this.

“It was against the law. You put him in danger, doing that. You put yourself at risk, too. There could’ve been an enormous media scandal-”

“I wouldn’t have cared, honestly,” his son admitted. “I... I was confident he’d be able to keep it hidden, and even make up for where I might not be as good at the whole cover-up aspect of it. I even learned a lot from him, just seeing how he handled it once, uh, I finally got him to see things my way.” He cleared his throat. “We’ve already both made sure no one in mainstream media, or anywhere else, will ever be able to trace him back to the school. All past records of his working there now fall under another name: Laurence Odinson. It’s seamless; I even had Agent Romanoff reach out to her next-best hacker-for-hire options aside from Loki, and none of them could find anything to connect Loki to the school whatsoever.”

Howard nodded, slowly, a little impressed despite himself. “So what’s your story then, for the press, for how you met?”

“We also falsified records so hat it looks like he’s been working in a consulting capacity for the anti-cyberterrorism wing of Stark Industries for the past two years,” Tony said coolly. “Our official story is that I had a crush on him starting two summers ago, and went after him not long after my eighteenth birthday, age difference be damned. He was reluctant because he worked for you, and all, but after all that’s happened with Obie, and how clearly his loyalties were made clear to you by his hacking Obie’s security and leaving it wide open for you to found out all that he’d done to get me kidnapped in Afghanistan... well.” The younger inventor took a long sip of iced tea. “He earned your respect and we’ve got your blessing. As of now.” He raised a questioning eyebrow, obviously seeking confirmation.

Slowly, the old inventor processed that, and then nodded. “You do.”

Something in Tony’s expression cracked for a second and he quickly looked back down at his plate.

Howard half-smiled a bit sadly, pained a bit by how his son instinctively tried to hide anything like vulnerability from him. “You’re happy?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, still not looking at him again. “I really am, and if you try to make him go away...” He _did_ look up then, eyes full of fear and fire in equal measure. “Just don’t. I dunno what I’d do, but I probably wouldn’t be proud of it in the long run.”

His father nodded. “Okay. I won’t.”

The younger inventor’s brow furrowed, a little disbelieving and reluctantly hopeful in equal measure. “Really?”

“I promise.”

Tony swallowed thickly. “Uhm. Thank you.”

“You’re happier than I’ve seen you in a long, long time, Tony. I don’t want to take that away from you, believe me. I’d never thought I’d see you like this again, and I couldn’t go to war with it if I tried,” Howard confessed quietly. “I’m with you.”

Despite all attempts to the contrary, Tony felt his eyes water and the corners of his eyes burn. “Thank you... dad.”

The older inventor smiled at him a bit brokenly, but proudly, unable to find the words, or work out quite what to do. He huffed relief when his son stood up, stepped around the table and hesitantly hugged him. Hugging back more tightly than he’d ever dared, Howard rested his chin atop Tony’s head and exhaled several years’ worth of anxiety and fear and doubt. His son was happy, and healthy, and could take care of himself.

That... that was all he could’ve ever really hoped for. Even if he had to thank someone as disreputable as Loki Laufeyson for it, he couldn’t claim for even a second that it wasn’t worth it, for this.

“Thank you,” Howard whispered. “And I’m so sorry I’ve-”

“Shut up,” Tony said, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t. Just. Shut up and let me hug you and we can work the rest out later.”

So Howard shut up, smiling wry and self-deprecating, because his son was right. Anything else, all the rest: that could wait. This, right here, was enough. More than enough. Better than he’d ever thought they might have.

So he shut up, and let Tony hug him a bit tighter, giving him more than enough excuse to hug tighter himself, too, in return.


End file.
